Federal Heat
by chezchuckles
Summary: A continuation of the If At First, Try Again universe. Beckett takes Jordan Shaw's offer. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Federal Heat**

an **If At First**, **Try Again** sequel

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><p>Note: It is essential to have read both 'If At First' and 'Try Again' in order to understand this story. Those two stories also have a prequel entitled 'One and Done' which is NOT necessary to read, but might establish a baseline for these characters that would be good to have.<p>

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><p>"You cannot always be happy, but you can almost always be focused, which is the next best thing."<p>

-'Rapt' by Winifred Gallagher

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><p>Beckett clapped a hand to her chest, trapping the rings dangling from the chain around her neck. She lunged up the last of the steps, wiped the slick sweat from her neck, and ran along the back of the top row of seats, then plunged back down the steps.<p>

Stadiums. Kate Beckett hated early morning stadiums. Making a circuit of up and down, up and down, every single aisle, every single staircase in War Memorial Stadium at five a.m. without coffee was what Beckett considers cruel and unusual punishment.

She heard Reddick gaining on her and picked up her pace, practically flying down the stairs. She had learned, in the last ten weeks, to take them two at a time with her glutes doing most of the work, letting her long legs rest a bit. Reddick huffed as he fell behind. Beckett was in the top ten percent of her training class at Langley, but it wasn't because she wanted to be. She had to be. A requirement of joining Shaw's team was top marks in FBI Academy training.

Beckett dodged the railing and darted along the straight concrete walkway, then began the slower climb up, her breath rattling in her chest despite being in the best shape of her life. Stadium stairs were just. . .grueling. No matter what.

On the Monday after being fired from the NYPD, Beckett had taken a horrendously expensive flight to DC for the interview with Jordan Shaw's boss, Deputy Director Wilson. She had breezed through the criminal law elements, the constitutional law aspects, even the critical analysis sections. Code-breaking tests had been timed, but she'd scored in the 99th percentile for those as well.

She had been polygraphed, had passed that with ease, and then she'd been given reams of paperwork to fill out. The application process was rigorous if only for the vast amounts of tiny bubbles she'd had to shade (completely) with a number two pencil.

Beckett had yet to hear whether or not she'd passed the background check, but she was a police officer-had been a police officer-so she didn't expect that to be a problem. She was a natural for the program, Shaw had assured her, but she absolutely had to do exceedingly well in the training program.

She was halfway through that program now at ten weeks. Every day she got up a little before five in the morning, ran stadiums with her classmates, stood at attention in the quad for an hour for roll-call, then went to classes (ethics, criminal investigation, forensic science, on and on). Lunch was twenty minutes, usually limp, cold, and disgusting. She had physical training after lunch, anything from obstacle courses to a five-mile run (easy) to combat training.

As a former officer, and as a woman with a healthy paranoia, Beckett had an advanced knowledge of defensive moves; the trainer often used her as his sparring partner. She'd become ostracized from her class because she pushed herself so hard to excel, but she couldn't afford to socialize at the expense of her success here.

This was her last shot. If she washed out of the Academy, she had no chance of bringing down the man who had murdered her mother, who had orchestrated Beckett's dismissal from the NYPD. She had to do this.

In the stadium, Beckett was alone at the top; Reddick had dropped too far back now to catch up. She could see the rest of her class in a ragged line behind her, five or six of them were almost three stairs away. She was coming up on the halfway mark now; her sweat burned in her eyes.

Beckett lifted her hand to swipe at her eyebrows; the rings swung free and bounced against her collarbone. She tucked the chain into her sports bra, promising to herself to have both of the rings cleaned when she got home (if she made it home). Home. New York. Castle.

Reddick had commented often on the rings, had banded some of the others together to tease her about them. But Beckett had seen real malice in his eyes, and she'd refused to explain. She was afraid now to take them off for sleep or workouts. So they stayed on the chain around her neck.

Her chest burned against them; she tried to push out thoughts of Castle entirely. It did her no good to start thinking of him, of the city, of the guys at the 12th right now. If she gave in to it during early morning stadiums, she would be a brutal wreck the rest of the day.

After the interview in DC, Beckett had flown straight to Quantico; she'd never got a chance to see Castle again, or thank him, but they'd shared a rushed phone call before her cell had been taken from her. She'd met her fellow trainees, her classmates, and had been paired with Reddick for their 'integrated case scenario' in Hogan's Alley. Beckett wasn't looking forward to that whatsoever.

Michael Reddick was an ass. Ego-driven, attention-seeking, but he was deadly calculating.

She might have appreciated having a superior partner if he hadn't always been trying to sabotage her. She'd managed to avoid the worst of it so far, his purposeful misdirects, his incorrect answers, but when they would go to Hogan's Alley at the end of their training, they absolutely had to solve using the skills they'd acquired in training, and Beckett wasn't entirely sure that Reddick will do his job. But it was their final project, so to speak, the thing which would make or break her, and she needed him to fall in line. Soon.

Beckett hated needing anyone.

So much of training was stuff she already knew, but the rest of it was so completely alien to her that it makes her second guess this decision. Anti-terrorism, bomb detonation and removal, counterintelligence, forensic science, behavioral science, weapons of mass destruction. . .

What Beckett had was a smattering of shallow details and broad concepts in the wide scope of criminology, but new agent training required an in-depth working knowledge that just might be too much for her. Fortunately, the interrogation techniques, legal disciplines, interviewing, and criminal investigations were second nature for her, and she was ruthlessly intelligent. She knew she had the brains for it, the critical thinking skills. She just had to make sure Reddick did what he was supposed to.

In a week, her class had an ethics training field trip to the Holocaust Memorial Museum in DC, and in eight more weeks, they'd be required to 'arrest' the suspects in the mock case they'd investigated. After that case exercise was the Capstone exercise, where they'd have to gather intelligence and profile a variety of culturally diverse suspects; this was the one she was worried about. It seemed more like guessing and less like cold, hard facts. Where was the timeline? Where was her autopsy, her trace evidence?

Beckett was finding this twenty-week. new agent training to be a strange combination of physically daunting and politically correct.

It was messing with her mind.

Beckett paused at the stop of the stadium once more, just for a moment, and watched the first flickers of light showing up along the horizon. The darkness of pre-dawn suited her better, but she welcomed the passage of time. Every sunrise she saw meant another day closer to Castle.

Castle. Right. She wasn't happy with it, not entirely, but she needed it. Him. Whatever.

Not just Academy graduation, not just a new job in the FBI, not just criminal profiling with Agent Shaw's team, but what she looked forward to the most was returning home to Castle.

She pressed her palm to her chest, felt the round shape of both rings, the sharp edges of her mother's diamond and the always-cool titanium smoothness of Castle's. She started back down the stadium steps, letting her momentum carry her. She had another two stairways to go before she was done.

She hadn't seen Castle in ten weeks, and she hadn't been given her personal effects back (cell phone, ID, her personal weapon-all held for her in storage), but she was able to get care packages. She'd had a note from Shaw early on, reassuring Beckett that Jordan had given her contact info to Castle and her partners at the 12th, and ever since then, the mail had been her lifeline.

It'd taken a week before Castle's package had arrived for her, wrapped in brown paper, her name written in that blocky scrawl, his scent clinging to the box. When she'd opened it in the privacy of the dense woods bordering the obstacle course, she'd been glad she'd slipped out to be alone.

This would've been a disaster to open in the cafeteria.

The jeweler's box had been that telltale Tiffany's blue, looking remarkably similar to the boxes Castle had put all the candy jewelry in. . .oh, ages ago. When she'd cracked the lid, she really had been expecting another ring pop, another clever joke to make her smile.

She hadn't expected an actual ring.

Titanium silver, according to the little card inside, which had also assured her meant the ring was durable, an aircraft grade that would be nearly impossible to break or shatter. Castle had added: _no matter what you do, the promise holds_.

A warning and a promise both.

With her chest too tight, Beckett had pulled the ring from it's soft bed, realizing then that it hadn't been fit to her finger. It was too wide, the circumference too big; it dangled from her thumb.

It was supposed to be his.

Without only a moment's hesitation, Beckett had slipped the chain from around her neck and had added Castle's ring to her mother's, the two of them fitting perfectly side by side. It was only then, with the afternoon sunlight slanting through the dense trees, that Beckett had seen the etching inside the band.

_August 27_

He'd set a date. He had set a date, and he had gotten her a ring.


	2. Chapter 2

Beckett stalked after Reddick through the buildings that formed Hogan's Alley, fuming. Her wrist was hot with pain, her arm felt bruised to the bone. She'd kept her weapon in hand though, and their suspect hadn't gotten the better of her.

He *had* gotten away though. And Reddick had conveniently been out of earshot for that botched grab. The conniving bastard. Her shoulder felt strange, like she could feel every thrum of blood through every vein, artery, and capillary.

"Through here," Reddick whispered, drawing to one side of a building made to look like a bar. Beckett had been through plenty of takedown operations, but this was the first where she wasn't sure she could trust her partner.

Reddick wasn't her partner. He was a bastard. She felt safer with a gun-less Castle at her back than this arrogant prick.

Her whole arm was tingling now; their suspect might have pinched a nerve catapulting her like that, or maybe it had been the forceful grip on her forearm as it slammed her down. She'd mistakenly believed that Reddick was right behind her when in fact he'd been haring off to chase shadows.

It was daylight still, but dark in Hogan's Alley. Their suspect didn't have a gun, and of course, her own weapon was a mock-up as well, but this was a major part of her grade. She wasn't ready to fail. She needed this to go right.

Beckett felt like a twelve year old playing laser tag. At the same time, the sense of urgency and danger increased every moment Reddick walked at her side.

She had to admit; it wasn't just him. It was the fierce way the fake suspect had fought her off, the too-quiet feeling of the buildings around them, and the surreal quality of this training exercise.

She paused behind him, then scrambled to cover the mouth of the alley. Reddick at least knew his procedure, and he did a thorough sweep before heading into the alley in the Weaver stance. Because Beckett was pissed, but also because her arm ached, she followed him using the Center Axis Relock method, her body in the blade stance, minimizing her silhouette and presenting her weak side forward. Also (and she knew now she had too much new information crammed into her head) the inventor of this method was Castle.

Not her Castle. But still.

It seemed smarter. Or good luck.

She stood in High position, right arm close to her chest, left hand cradling the butt of her gun, her throbbing arm doing less work. She figured on this being a close combat fight, and she didn't want to get disarmed.

Reddick, in the Weaver stance, could easily lose his weapon if-

And he had. Reddick went down in a blur of expertly executed combat maneuvers. Beckett cursed and called out for the suspect to freeze, identifying herself as the FBI. And it felt wrong, so wrong, but she pushed that to the side and watched her target hesitate.

Long enough for Reddick to execute a move of his own and flip the man to the ground, but then their suspect was rolling up to his knees and kicking high. Reddick went down and Beckett felt inclined, for half a heartbeat, to let him get clobbered, but she crept forward, calling out her by-the-books warning.

The suspect raised up, hands held aloft as she instructed, but she could see his eyes darting around, searching for an avenue of escape.

Since her arms were already close, defensive, Beckett gritted her teeth and reached for her zip ties (they no longer used handcuffs). She struggled not to show her weakness and used a foot to kick at Reddick, gentle enough, to get him moving.

The suspect still had both hands raised, but he'd dropped his elbows slightly and his face took on that gathered aspect she knew all too well.

"Don't even think about it," she hissed, and thumbed the safety off. Their weapons were really, truly, just paintball, but a hit was a hit.

And this was a terrorist, of course. Not a regular criminal who didn't want to get killed. He didn't lower his elbows any more, but his face was still watchful, waiting. The look of a man certain of his fate.

Beckett felt the tension tightening like a hangman's noose between the two of them; she had to make her move now to subdue the suspect or else he'd bring her down. She could sense it.

Her arm was still tingling, nearly numb, and it took a great force of will to bring the zip ties up to her mouth without her hand trembling. She'd practiced this late at night in the dorm, one-handed set-up of the zip tie so that it'd be easy to loop over a suspect's wrists when the time came.

Beckett didn't move closer, didn't lower her eyes to check on the unmoving Reddick, didn't ease her weapon's sights down. She used her thumb and the side of her forefinger to thread the zip tie into it's lock, keeping it stable against her chin, then used her teeth to tug the loop a little tighter.

She replaced her teeth with her thumb and gestured for the suspect to turn around. She knew the icy cold in her eyes had sealed over the pinpricks of agony when the man did as she said and put his back to her.

Beckett hesitated behind him for an instant, not because she was uncertain, but because she had that moment of dreadful insight that always came to her when Castle was about to get them in trouble. Clarity like the edge of a razor, so sharp it was painless when it cut.

The suspect used the momentum of his turn to lash is foot out, completing a 360 move that brought his arm swinging full force towards where Beckett's windpipe should have been.

Only it wasn't. Because she'd hesitated.

Beckett hooked her leg around the guy's knee and pulled, flinging her upper body forward to carry into his, their combined momentum toppling him to the ground. Since his arms were mostly already behind him, it was easy work to loop the ziptie around one wrist, yank hard enough to almost dislocate a shoulder, and bring the loop around the other wrist.

She jerked the zip tie, tight, and the suspect growled.

"Training exercise, bitch."

"You were going for my wind pipe, asshole," she growled back, putting a knee into his back to leverage herself up. "And you used that nasty nerve-pinch back in the room where we found you." They'd been told the parameters for this exercise, but clearly this guy had taken it upon himself to make sure her classmates knew the meaning of 'real-world' scenario.

Beckett didn't bother to help the guy up; she left him faceplanted in the grit of the alley as she headed back to Reddick.

Her lab partner was out cold. The 'suspect' had probably done a number on him as well. Beckett felt for a pulse and was glad to discover it strong and normal. While she wasn't feeling all that charitable towards Reddick, she didn't want to call in the cavalry to come pick up the suspect before her classmate had regained consciousness; he'd lose face.

Maybe he'd feel like he owed her one.

Doubtful. Still. Hadn't she told Castle once that all she had left was her integrity?

She sighed and thumped Reddick's cheek to no avail, then took the pink shell of his ear between her fingers and pinched. Hard.

Reddick yelped and jerked upright, hands fumbling for a weapon that wasn't there, glaring at her. "What the hell, TP?"

Beckett growled and backed up. Teacher's Pet. Fine. Whatever. She was so over this place. Two more weeks. She had two more weeks before she could go home.

Maybe home. The FBI tended to base their agents out of a city other than the one they'd been recruited in, which meant that most likely, they wouldn't let her go back to New York. She might never live in New York again.

She didn't want to think about that.

"He got the drop on you," she said, biting her words off. "Over there." Beckett jerked her head and watched Reddick glance to their suspect in dismay, heat in his face.

"You got him," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I did. Almost didn't. He went for my throat."

Reddick was sitting up now, massaging the back of his neck. "Mine too." He raised his head and let her see the angry looking marks across his throat.

That explained the note in the man's voice, the growl to it that she'd been mistaking for antagonism. She sighed and held out her hand. Reddick glanced at it for a long time, then slapped his palm in hers and let her pull him up.

Let her was right. As if he was trying to make a statement, he let all of his weight hang from her arm before getting to his feet, and her annoyance flashed hotly again. Her left arm still tingled against her side, sensitive to every movement, her wrist throbbing. Last thing she needed was this asshole-

"Legs feel funny," he admitted, still working at his throat with his free hand. She saw him swallow and wince.

"Maybe we should get you to a medic station?" Beckett herself should probably get to a medic station, but no way was she going to show weakness in front of this guy.

"Hey, newbies, call the pick-up van already!" Their suspect had lifted his head from the concrete and now worked to get his knees under him.

Reddick (she *knew* she didn't like the man) strolled over and pushed his toe into their suspect's side, knocking him over. The suspect, who was really a combat instructor for one of the other classes, kicked out with both feet from a lying down position, striking Reddick's ankle and calf, causing his knees to buckle.

Yeah, their suspect had probably pinched a nerve in Reddick's back when he'd jumped him, and now knew exactly where to strike for maximum effect. Reddick dragged himself away, one leg bum.

"All right boys. Enough," she yelled, and jerked her radio from her belt. "This is Charlie Beta Forty to Charlie Alpha-"

Before she could further identify herself, her radio was cut by CA150's transmission. "This is CA150, you got your guy already?"

Shit, these people. Absolute morons. They weren't using the call signs correctly and they-

Uh oh.

Reddick was on his feet now and reaching for her radio even as she tossed it down, appalled. Her heart pounded as her nervous system mistakenly read the situation as 'dire', forgetting for a moment that it was entirely fake.

"So the base of operations has been compromised?" she said quietly, looking in Reddick's face for answer she really didn't want.

He sighed. "Had to be. Did you recognize that voice?"

She shook her head. "Damn, this just can't be easy, can it?"

"You wounded, Beckett?" Reddick was watching the way her arm hung at her side. She could feel the hot wash of her blood through her arm, making it pulse.

She was tempted to brush him off, but all that time with Castle had taught her that honesty was the best policy in situations like these. Even if it wasn't real, just staged for their peculiar mock case, she had to be upfront with her limitations, just as Reddick had been with his.

"Yeah. Arm's numb just above my elbow to my shoulder. Sprained wrist. And the forearm is. . .painful."

"Bone get bruised by this asshole?"

She nodded. "Your legs?"

"Not yet numb, but the right one is getting there." He rubbed at his neck again. "My throat feels like it's swelling up."

Beckett felt a strange icy wash flood through her. "Swelling? As in, still?"

He nodded and cleared his throat with a pained look on his face; he had to close his eyes. It must be bad, if he was letting her see that. "Still. Feels tighter every. . ." He cleared his throat again, shook his head.

"You *do* need a medic," she said softly.

"Hell no," Reddick ground out, stepping away from her and stumbling when his leg buckled. "I finish this. Now think of a plan, TP."

She growled at him and took another look at their suspect to make sure he'd stayed down as he was supposed to. In their training exercise, their instructors had said that the suspects were going to fall into line with their character profile, regardless. Which meant that the terrorist she'd just bagged would take every opportunity to make her hurt, to get her killed.

At any cost.

Beckett turned her back on him so that he couldn't overhear her instructions. "We tie him up pretty good and dump him somewhere dark. Come back for him when we've taken control of home base again."

Reddick wheezed through his throat and grimaced. "This is feeling like a perverted game of capture the flag, you know?"

"You'd think they'd dropped us in the middle of CIA training camp," she joked, realizing he was trying to bolster himself up for the long task ahead of them.

Reddick sighed and glanced over her shoulder to their suspect. "All right. We'll drag him somewhere quiet. Can I knock him unconscious first?"

She shook her head. "He's not really a bad guy, Red."

He frowned at her. "You sure about that?"

She sighed. This was just going to be a miserable day.


	3. Chapter 3

Reddick limped and Beckett cradled her arm against her chest, both with their weapons drawn. They kept close to the buildings, ignoring the fact that their second suspect was still out there somewhere. It seemed as if the takeover of their home base was the true mission of Hogan's Alley. If they had time, they might ferret out suspect number two after all of this, but she didn't expect to have the time.

Beckett was the first to see two of their classmates cautiously exiting the building in front of Reddick. She hissed at him, drew him back against the brick, and waited with her heart pounding. Every time her adrenaline spiked like this, her wrist throbbed without mercy, pulsing heat against her side.

The two coming out of the building were partnered-up trainees. They seemed to be arguing about what to do next; Beckett stepped forward and made their presence known.

Torres, a young woman from Phoenix, jumped back when she saw them, her hand going to her holster. Her partner, Stewart, stayed her hand by stepping in front of her, his brow furrowed but not hostile.

"Beckett? Did you two. . .get a strange response from base?"

Reddick leaned forward, putting a hand against the brick. "We did. You too?"

Torres nodded and stepped out from behind Stewart, her hand falling away from her weapon. Not that it would have done any good, since they were just paintball, but at least she had the training down.

Beckett watched Stewart size them up, then presented her idea. "We arrested a suspect, had a kind of. . .altercation with him. It's the combat trainer from the third group-"

"Oh jeez," Torres moaned. "What an asshole."

Reddick nodded; he seemed to choose to talk less and less. Beckett hoped his throat wasn't still swelling up. "We called for a pick-up and got a reply without proper procedure."

"No call sign?" Stewart asked, squinting into the sunlight. "That was us too."

"Yeah." Beckett glanced to Reddick, but he seemed content to let her handle it. "Don't know about you but we think this might be the real test."

Torres was doing most of the deciding it seemed, because she nodded and stepped down into the street with them. "Us too. We're going to have to do this together."

Beckett nodded back. "Yeah. Got any ideas?"

Stewart stepped forward as well, causing Reddick to shuffle up next to Kate, having her back, as if he actually were her partner. Amazing.

Torres shrugged. "Show up at base. Recon. Formulate a plan from there."

"Sounds good," Kate agreed. "But the two of us are probably gonna slow you down."

"That's okay. We've still got twelve hours before our time is up," Torres added, glancing at her watch. "We can do it."

Kate glanced overhead at the glare of the sun, then down the long stretch of silent street; sharp shadows painted every angle. She wasn't sure how smart it was to try to take on an unknown enemy in relatively foreign territory in broad daylight. . .

But she wanted to get this over with.

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><p>With four of them, they scoped out the squat building, made a short and dirty plan, and followed through. It was simple, really, and when it was over, they had base back under the FBI's control within four hours. Beckett felt pleased that a large portion of the execution had been her idea, and even more pleased that Reddick had been forced to sit most of it out, since his leg was lame and his throat was still swollen.<p>

Beckett's debriefing was long, but they had her back at Quantico by ten o'clock that night. She was bruised from the top of her left shoulder to her fingertips; the medic had done what he could and had even wrapped an ace bandage around her wrist, but she needed a couple more advil if she was going to sleep through the night, despite her exhaustion.

Her knee was tender as well, probably from taking down their suspect with that hooked leg move, but her superiors hadn't said anything about the combat trainer's condition when they'd talked with her. She hoped he hurt worse than she did.

Reddick was laid up in the infirmary, but before she'd left him there, he'd been making some strange comments. Unfortunately, Reddick sounded half in love with her now, but maybe it was just the pain meds they had him on. She fiercely hoped that's all it was because she wasn't interested in having to put him down gently. She'd body-slam him if he made a pass at her.

Beckett pulled the rings on their chain out from under her sports bra and pressed the warm metal against the base of her neck as she sank to her bed. The hope of home rose up in her again and she had to swallow hard to keep from drowning in it.

The dorm reeked of anxiety-laced sweat; each pair of classmates were going to confront Hogan's Alley within the next 48 hours, and she knew they were studying and preparing themselves just as she had been. She wondered if every assigned partnership was as ill-suited as hers, wondered if that was part of the deal here, wondered if they'd all get the same eventual mission, wondered. . .

She couldn't shut off her brain. Adrenaline seemed to careen through her system, bouncing from one neuron to the next, leaving her jittery and mentally fried and her mouth tasting sour.

Beckett laid back on her bunk and ignored her own stink, closing her eyes, the rings pressed to her palm and resting against her chest. The darkness behind her eyelids didn't do much to help calm her down, but the relief of the bed under her back and hips seemed to make up for it.

Slowly, her brain cleared and incidents from that day unwound in her head, dropping from her conscious thoughts one by one until it was just the round circle of two rings under her palm and the heavy weight of her body. She'd sleep for now, get up in the morning for the physical endurance test, and be one day closer to home.

She could do this.

* * *

><p>Rick Castle tapped his finger against the armrest and checked his watch once more. The flight attendant came around to collect the first-class cabin's trash; Castle dumped the majority of his breakfast with the barest hint of a polite smile. His stomach rolled.<p>

He hadn't seen Kate Beckett in nearly twenty weeks, hadn't even been able to talk to her, and his whole body ached with it. Five months of silence. She hadn't invited him to her training graduation, but Jordan Shaw had, and so he was on a plane traveling to DC with the wild hope that she'd welcome him.

Alexis had wanted to come, but she was getting ready for college, still packing things up, arranging stuff with Ashley. She'd graduated high school over the summer, to his extreme sorrow, and had been accepted to Stanford with her boyfriend. Castle wasn't pleased, but no amount of gentle conversation could change Alexis's mind. Of course, outright blackmail was still an option as far as Castle was concerned, bu he had yet to resort to that. On top of him not having Kate around, Castle had been trying to deal with his daughter's overwhelming excitement at leaving. Leaving!

It just wasn't right. He wasn't prepared for her to go. And he needed Kate. And Kate might not even be. . .willing. He had no idea what kind of reception that ring he sent had gotten; he only knew that Beckett had continued to write to him when she had a chance, which was sporadic and uninformative, and he'd gotten reports on her from Shaw.

She was top in her class. She had beaten 189 other classmates in her combat sparring class until a recruit from Austin, Texas, had taken her down (the man had a good 150 pounds on Kate and was also certified in Krav Maga). She had run the 10K in record time, had made sniper class in firearms training, and had high praise from her forensic science instructor.

Of course she had. Castle hadn't expected any less.

Didn't mean he had any more idea of how she felt about everything, about what she was going to do with her life now that she couldn't be an NYPD detective. Didn't mean Castle had any idea either, despite the detailed reports, of what life might look like after this.

He was going to throw up, he really was.

He missed her. Fierce and animal. He wrote in a fugue state and needed a scotch every now and then to turn his brain off, let him sleep. He had made plans, met with directors and arrangers and decorators and bakers, gotten everything in place for late August, for when she'd marry him.

Please, let her marry him.

Helping Alexis with her college application, her interview video, her entrance essay, being the one to actually discover the summer program that gave her the necessary remaining credits, filling out paperwork that allowed her to graduate early, sitting with her in the office as they waited for her diploma and lamenting to himself, quietly as possible, that she'd never walk across the high school stage, he'd never be able to fire off the air horn and holler like an idiot as his baby, his own child, graduated high school with her class.

All of it wore him out. He was rubbed raw. He wanted Kate.

He was probably building it up too much in his head, their eventual reunion; he knew he was, and that he'd only get his feelings hurt when she couldn't give him everything he wanted, but he couldn't help himself. He'd hide those hurt feelings where she couldn't see them, just as he'd done in the face of Alexis's growing excitement all summer.

So long as she married him.

* * *

><p>Jordan Shaw and her team met him as he disembarked. She was standing with her hip cocked, a scowl on her face, and people were staring.<p>

Of course, Shaw was allowed past security (with her weapon he had no doubt) but why? And why just for him?

Castle pulled his carry-on suitcase behind him and offered a jaunty wave. It fell flat.

Shaw drew up to her full height and glared at him. "You want to tell me why your girlfriend failed the background check, Castle?"

His what? Did what?

"What?"

Castle glanced warily around Shaw to the flock of dark-suited agents and their itchy trigger fingers. Sorry, that was being unkind. They looked perfectly willing not to shoot him, so long as he had a good answer.

He didn't have an answer at all.

"Beckett failed the background check. Because of you."

"Because of me?" he squeaked, widening his eyes in a display of innocence that was completely heartfelt. His heart pounded with something that felt suspiciously like relief. If Beckett failed the background check, then she wouldn't become an FBI agent, she would be safe. She'd turn to him like she had when she'd been relieved of her duty; she'd cling to him and not-

No. She'd never do that. Kate might've been broken that day when she asked to marry him, but he never expected to see that Kate again.

"Because of you, Castle. You want to tell me why?"

"I don't know!" He shook his head at the accusation in her eyes. "The police horse thing? That's a million years ago."

"Police horse?" Shaw quirked her lip and turned back to gesture at the agents with her. "We already knew about that little stunt. This is something else. You want to come with me?"

"Is that. . .an official request?"

Shaw took the sheaf of papers from the man behind her, not the same guys she'd taken over the 12th with, and slapped the papers against his chest. "It is. But my courtesy? That's unofficial. So come with me, Castle."

He took the papers, a printout of some kind, and wheeled his suitcase along after her, the agents in formation around them as Shaw continued.

"Those are bank records."

"Okay?"

"Of an off-shore account."

"O-kay," Castle juggled with his laptop case so he could bring the stapled pages into view. "All right. So?"

"Of a shell company."

"Are you seriously drawing this out?" Castle growled. "Just tell me already."

"A shell company, Castle, based in a city just over the border from Afghanistan. A shell company that is known to have ties to terrorist organizations. A shell company that accepted a wire transfer from one Richard Castle-"

"Oh." Oh yeah.

"Oh?" Shaw raised her eyebrow ever higher and stopped in her tracks in the middle of the concourse. "OH?"

"I know what that is."

"Care to enlighten the class, Castle?" She hustled them off to one side with a brutal shove against his ribs, the pod of agents following.

"Simple. When we got the chance to fake hire the assassin who killed Beckett's mother, I transferred the money into the account he gave me."

"He? Who is he? What assassin?"

Castle sighed and propped his suitcase up, handed her the stapled pages back. "It's complicated. But this guy, Dick Coonan, got his brother killed and Beckett caught the case. Turns out Coonan's brother was murdered by the same man who murdered Beckett's mother. Forensic evidence, right? And then we caught Coonan, who gave up the hired killer's name. He said Rathborne. We wanted to get Rathborne."

"Are you making this up?" Shaw insisted, pushing a finger into his chest and backing him up against the windows spanning the long concourse.

"No. I promise. Not making this up."

"This sounds ridiculous, Castle."

"It's true. So the only way of getting to Rathborne was by hiring him for a job. A fake job. Well, I mean, I guess the target was a real guy, but we had an NYPD officer who looked like the guy, and he went with Ryan and Esposito and a team, but Rathborne never showed-"

"Holy. . ." Shaw shook her head and pinched her nose with two fingers, taking a slow and deep breath.

"Then we figured he'd just seen the routing number and traced it back to me, and that it was just too public for him, so it looked like we lost him. Right? Only there *was* no Rathborne."

"Coonan?"

"It was Coonan. Kate figured it out. Coonan was just signing out of lockup, just past the bullpen, the holding cells, you know? Kate figured it out right as Coonan was leaving and it all just sorta happened-"

"What 'just sorta happened?'" Shaw was riveted; as a story-teller, Rick could tell that she'd moved from highly irritated to intrigued in seconds. Not that he was doing such a great job of telling this story; she made him too nervous for that. Funny. Because when Kate did it, he was aroused, and when Shaw did it, he was. . .nervous.

"Coonan pulled the duty officer's gun, clubbed him with it, then frog-marched us down the hallway, past the bullpen, the gun hidden under his coat."

"He took you hostage inside the 12th?"

"You could tell he wasn't going to let us live. His eyes were too flat. I think Beckett wouldn't make a play for the gun because of me. But Montgomery figured it out, or saw something in Beckett's face, and he drew his weapon."

"And?"

"And suddenly I was hostage and Beckett had her weapon out, and the Captain, and all the guys in the bullpen, and people were yelling, and Coonan was using me as a shield. He was going to shoot me to make his escape; I think we all knew that. What else could he do but drag me to the elevators or down the stairs, and then shoot me and hope to slip out in the chaos? So I head-butted him-"

"You did not." Shaw had her hands on her hips; her jaw dropped.

"And he raised his weapon to fire, but Beckett got him first. Beckett dropped him."

"Her mother's killer."

"She shot him, center of mass, and then she tried for five minutes to revive him, even as the blood went everywhere, and every push against his chest made more blood spill out of him-"

"Okay. Got it, Castle." Shaw slumped back against the windows, shaking her head at him but with something in her eyes now. It looked like respect. Renewed respect, because he and Beckett had saved her life once, and she remembered that certainly, but this was different. This was the two of them, him and Beckett, and the way they worked.

"She killed him. To save my life. And I. . ." Castle trailed off, unable to think past that moment.

"All right. We'll fix this. You'll need to sign an affidavit. If we work fast, we can get this done in time. Before graduation."

"What happens if we don't get it done in time?" Castle asked, rubbing at his eyes with a hand.

"She doesn't graduate."

She doesn't graduate.

He took a long, slow breath. He wished he knew, one way or the other, what Kate was thinking about all of this. About him. Them. She'd told him to set a date and she'd show up, and he'd been working off that promise ever since. But twenty weeks was a long time without confirmation. Five months of second guessing.

Castle sighed and gripped his suitcase handle, readjusted his laptop bag with resignation. "Okay. Let's go then."


	4. Chapter 4

Rick bounced his knee in the backseat as he waited for the light to turn green. Shaw was in the passenger side with a sheaf of last-minute paperwork in hand; she turned to him with a glare as his kneecap knocked into the back of her seat.

"Sorry."

"Relax. We'll make it."

They might not make it.

He'd had to be sworn in, had to recreate a timeline of events for the affidavit, had to find a notary public (how Shaw hadn't thought of that, he had no idea), and now they had to run to some other office to turn in the collection of papers. Most of it was legal stuff asking for an official exemption due to mitigating circumstances, and then a lot of other things that Castle had no idea about.

He'd signed his name and spent the last thirty minutes in heavy Beltway traffic, feeling like he might, at any moment, hurl.

Shaw was serene and unflappable, as ever, and the driver, Gordon Something or Something Gordon (Castle can't remember) was equally cool. Castle was the only newbie sweating like a pig and praying under his breath. He needed to change into a clean shirt, but Beckett's graduation ceremony was slated for an hour from now.

An hour. There was just no way they were going to make it.

Gordon Something found an opening in the line and shot through it, turn signal on as if that might make a difference in rudeness, and the car ate up about 100 yards of pavement. With two passengers and government plates, their car was allowed to use the interstate during rush hour, but the problem was getting to it. HOV lanes encompassed the entire of the interstate system around DC, but this caused the side roads and detours to clog up.

They were stopped again.

He had wanted to see Kate before her graduation, if only to allow their reunion to be private. But this way, he'd be lucky if he made it in time for the announcement of her name, since she was up near the top of the alphabet. Half of his anxiety orbited around the idea that maybe Kate just didn't want him here, and he was barging in where he didn't belong, but good thing he had. Right? Good thing he was there, or else Beckett would've failed the background check.

The car's engine whined in the late-summer heat.

He wondered if it had been smart of him to plan everything without her. He had guests. He had a caterer. He had a band and a bar; his daughter had a dress, his mother had a dress.

Kate did not. He hoped to fix that soon, but really, he saw now just how in vain it had been to coordinate their wedding without even telling her. Surprise! Oh man, she was going to kill him, wasn't she?

Castle raised an arm and hooked his fingers around the door handle as Gordon turned them sharply left around a Jeep, and then they were sailing up the on-ramp.

Okay, they might make it.

* * *

><p>Beckett rotated her forearm slowly, wincing as the bruised muscles and strained tendons worked. In the last few days, she'd discovered that flexing her wrist and moving her arm had become necessary. Not because her arm might stiffen. But because she needed the sharp reality of the injury to remind her of what was important.<p>

When it came down to it, the FBI wasn't her life goal or the jewel of her career's crown. She was here for access only; a way to keep looking for the man responsible for her mother's death. She needed databases and a team of investigators; she needed the way of life of an officer of the law; she needed the clarity of purpose and single-minded focus that came with this kind of thing.

She wasn't interested in making friends. She'd already saved Reddick's butt in the simulated case, and then promptly had to reject his advances for the next three days. She'd alienated Torres, even though the woman had been looking for a friend, because this wasn't what she was here for.

Connections kept you down. Connections tethered you. Beckett needed nothing more than raw data and time. If she had enough clues, enough evidence, enough facts to fill out the timeline, then she would find her mother's killer. Coonan and Lockwood were just links in a daisy chain; Beckett was working her way up the chain, pulling herself hand over hand to the source.

It was now only a matter of time.

She rotated her forearm again, found the tug of healing muscle cleared her head, focused her attention. The auditorium was crowded with people, family and friends of her classmates, but Beckett didn't look. She'd not told anyone about her graduation from the training academy because it was pointless. It wasn't a landmark achievement; it wasn't a cause for celebration. It just was. Necessary for the next step.

Beckett rolled her head on her neck and glanced overhead. The lights were on already; the Director of the FBI had come to say a few words to their class. There were four other classes graduating within a week of each other. She wanted nothing more than to get this over with, so she was grateful when the Director stepped up to the podium.

Her class was led to the front of the stage by her combat instructor; they filed down the rows smoothly, standing at something like attention before the crowd. She felt eyes crawl over her but with the lights, it was difficult to tell why, or from where. The graduate to her left, Sam Beal, gave a hip-high wriggle of his fingers to someone out there; Beckett followed his line of sight and found a young woman in the crowd, holding the hand of a little girl.

She might not care, but they did. This was Sam Beal's chosen profession, and Beckett needed to remember that, give that, at least, the respect it deserved.

The doors at the back of the auditorium crashed open with a resounding clang. Everyone in her class turned instinctively to the sound. Beckett, Beal, and she could see others as well, had half-crouched at the noise. Beckett had reached for a weapon that wasn't there.

But whoever it was closed the door more softly, tripped down the aisle with a small contingent of suited figures behind him. It was hard to see with the lights, but she could hear a male voice stage-whispering apologies as he tried to find a seat.

Beckett unconsciously raised a hand to her chest, felt the outline of the rings on their chain. The training camp's director was at the podium now, trying to regain everyone's attention with a monotone speech about the honor and value of the FBI's newest recruits. Or something. Beckett was still riveted by the commotion going on about fifteen rows from the front.

Her throat went dry.

"Kate!" It was a hoarse whisper through the crowd, but she'd know that voice anywhere.

She cut her eyes to the back, wincing against the glare, and saw the outline of the man, her man, holding two thumbs up, half-crouched in the aisle as his group made its way to their seats.

She couldn't see his face clearly, but she knew he was grinning like a nine year old.

Damn.

* * *

><p>When they called her name, Castle drank in the sight of her as she walked across the stage, all long-limbed, feral grace. She looked hard and brutal, the lines of her body sharp, her eyes like black diamonds. Even though she seemed capable and more than willing to shred him to ribbons, Castle stood up and put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.<p>

Piercingly.

Heads jerked in his direction, but Beckett's steps didn't falter.

_That's my girl._

She shook the Director's hand and took her diploma. Or whatever it was. Castle wasn't sure if they did diplomas for graduating from the FBI training program, but it was something. A certificate of achievement?

Castle applauded with the rest of the audience, but while theirs was polite, his was loud and obnoxious and technically a standing ovation. He whistled again as Beckett headed back to her place in the line, and he saw the way she picked him out of the crowd, without a moment's hestitation, without a twitch of her face.

If looks could kill.

Castle sat back down beside Gordon and Shaw, pleased with himself. Even if his confidence was shaky, he felt better getting that reaction from her. He still affected her, if she was glaring daggers at him. And if he affected her, then he still had a chance.

He sat patiently through the rest of the ceremony, as patiently as a man who had been on the early flight out, and he tried not to bounce his knee as he waited. He kept his eyes on Beckett, the back of her head now to him, the line of her neck like marble.

She was going to be reluctant towards him; she was going to be difficult again. He could see it like an overgrown path crowding his horizon; the connection between them required tending, a constant gardener, but they'd been apart for too long and the kudzu had claimed so much.

It would be Beckett and not Kate who met him after the ceremony; the embattled officer of the law who was focused on the most important case of her life, rather than the certain woman who'd promised him that all he had to do was set a date.

He had work to do.


	5. Chapter 5

When the ceremony was over, Shaw had to practically restrain him. Castle wanted to take the stairs in leaps and bounds straight up onto the stage and tackle Beckett. Just take her down, have her under him. Finally.

He waited in the back like a good boy, bouncing on his toes to see over the heads of people milling around, dodging to see past the fat guy with the program in one meaty hand, angling his neck to keep track of her as she slid through the other graduates to the edge of the stage.

She disappeared for a moment. His breath caught on his ribs, the lack of her like the pain of ripping lung tissue, and then she had cleared a space for herself, alone at the head of the stairs, and she was beautiful. Severe and beautiful.

Castle was stunned into silence and stillness by her, could only watch her approach. The pencil skirt lay close to her thighs, narrow, the pale grey like a dove. Her blouse was a royal purple that captured all the light and shone like silk; his hands twitched with an urge to grab fistfuls of the stuff and slide it up her sides, her arms over her head, elbows at his ears, chest pushed towards him-

Beckett broke through the last cluster of congratulatory crowd and stopped five feet away from him, entirely too far.

His body trembled with the effort to hold himself back. Shaw and Gordon and the entourage melted down like crayons in a hot car, then dissolved away to give them privacy.

Seeing her finally was like an ice pack to a busted lip, so cold it burned, numbing, dulling both the pain and the heat of healing. Castle stepped forward, a broad stride, and she stood her ground.

But it wasn't Kate; it was Beckett. And the armor was multi-layered today.

"How'd you get here?" she said sharply.

Castle came closer, because he'd met Beckett before and gotten past her, he'd tangled with her and come out on top (sometimes literally, to his eternal pleasure), and this woman, Federal Beckett?, she was still no match for him. For what he could do to her, for her.

"I flew," he grinned, ambling into her space. "And, boy, are my arms tired."

There was a flicker across her right eye, like an eyelash had landed against the sensitive surface and she was merely blinking it away, but it was enough of a tell for him. That flicker in Federal Beckett was the same as the quirk of lips in Detective Beckett, in his opinion, and it meant he had her.

"So it's Agent Beckett now?" he queried, lifting an eyebrow as he said it and coming in closer. "That is so much sexier than Detective."

And then it was her cheek, a twitch that crimped the corner of one eye. Castle slid closer, so that his thigh was between hers, so that leaning in meant his lips were aligned with her ear.

"Can I be your Man in Black?" he whispered.

She huffed out a breath that fanned his skin, turned her head towards him and pressed the sketch of a smile to his cheek, as if she were hiding it.

Castle felt the rumble of his own amusement vibrate through his chest, and then Beckett was pulling her lips back to bare her teeth, scraping them against the stubble at his jaw. He sucked in a startled breath, felt the nip at his skin, the tug of her teeth, the faint pressure of her lips.

She disappeared while he was lost in the haze of his thundering body; suddenly it was cool and airy where it had been hot. He raised his hand to feel the mark.

Kate was standing before him with that half-amused, half-aroused glint to her eyes, but not a smile. The lack of a smile worried him; it meant he was close but not close enough.

She brought a hand up in the space between them; he felt her knuckles brush against his sternum, and then she was dipping a finger down between her breasts, and his heart pounded.

She pulled up the chain around her neck and from the end swung two rings, a blur of gold and silver.

Not silver. Titanium.

The fist around his guts eased, let him go. He stood a little straighter, reached out a hand and hooked his finger through both of the rings, pulled her close again.

"August 27th," she said, and there was no question in her tone, no hesitation.

He made a fist with the rings still trapped on his finger, tugged her closer; he saw the flare of indignation and fight and heat that lit up her eyes, the hard set of her mouth, and then he had forced a brutal kiss on that mouth, crashed into it, a battle, his teeth razing her lips.

She bit back, minimal pressure, the threat of strength in her jaw under his fingertips, his palm at her throat, thumb at the point of her chin so that he could work her exactly where he wanted her to be. Kate, no it was Beckett again, Beckett was grasping his fisted hand and prying his fingers from the chain around her neck even as she kissed him, until she bent back his thumb, and he yelped and broke the connection.

She was panting; she had the rings clutched in her own hand now; she was shaking her head at him with an absolute, intense, and furious need.

"You don't get it back," she said, her breathing hitched.

His heart flipped in his chest. "I don't?"

"Not yet. Not till the 27th. You don't touch it till then, when I get to put it on you."

Castle grinned, let the hand wrapped around her neck soften until he was merely brushing her skin. The auditorium was quickly emptying; the agents and Shaw had found shadows to lurk in but weren't visible from here.

He leaned in slowly, took his time, but didn't kiss her. Instead, he created a path along her jaw to her ear with his lips until he felt her will bend, her body unwind a little against his.

Her sigh was faint, but it reminded him of the weekend they had spent together before she'd flown to DC, and before that, the weekend before she'd been suspended, the way she had felt at his side when they'd finally gotten a chance to sit down. The couch had sunk with their weight and drawn them together and she had laid her head back and let a palm fall to his thigh and closed her eyes.

And sighed just like this. A_ finally home_ sigh.

"You'll still have me?" he whispered.

"You have to ask?"

"That's not an answer," he murmured, his lips tracing the edge of her ear.

"It's all you'll get," she murmured back, laughing, and it was the laugh he'd been longing for.

He pulled back with a grin, caught the mirror of it on her face finally, and felt his chest swell. It had taken-what? all of twenty minutes to break Federal Beckett down into Kate? He was interested now in seeing the transformation back, like a peacock pulling its brilliant feathers into itself, closing up, glittering-eyed and dangerous-beaked.

"Alexis?" she asked, and a bit more Beckett fell away, the soft places revealed to him.

He sighed, his own soft places showing up melancholy. "Packing up for college."

"Oh."

"She wanted to come."

"Yeah."

"She did, Kate," he whispered, and then tried to hide the lie with his own melodrama. "But I needed some time away from her constant. . .joy."

"Castle," she huffed, rolling her eyes at him.

"She's going to ask you to come with us next week. To drop her off at the dorms. I don't. . .you don't have to say yes. You might not be able to say yes-"

"I don't know yet," she sighed again. "I've got to report for a six-week, probationary, agent-in-the-field nonsense. And then, if Shaw can pull her strings, then I go to her team."

"Six weeks where?"

"I don't know yet. Everyone gets assigned a city."

"New York?"

"It's on the list, Castle. But so is Phoenix. And Des Moines, and LA. And Memphis."

"I'll follow you anywhere. We can just fly back up to the City for the 27th-"

He stopped at the look on her face, which seemed bewildered and disbelieving and. . .and horrified.

"Kate?"

"You'll. . .what?"

"I mean. It's in the city, Kate. I don't know how we can possibly move it. There's the license, the place, the local caterer, the band-"

"No, no. Not that." She had closed her eyes, put a hand on his chest as if to steady herself.

And then he realized. Castle grinned. "Alexis will be at college. I'm a writer, Kate. I can do that anywhere. I go with you. Wherever that is. I don't even have to give up the loft, you know? My mother can take care of the place for us, for me. For us?"

She shook her head at him. "I can't even think about that right now."

"For me then. For us later. Or somewhere else. You can pick it."

"I seriously can't think about that right now." She held out a warning hand, palm flat against his chest.

"All right. I'll pick it. Hey, maybe you'll get assigned to some place cool. Like Memphis!"

"Why is Memphis cool?" she frowned.

"You know. Elvis. Uh. BB King. Um. It could be interesting."

"It's not New York."

He sighed, dropped the act for a second to let her see that he wasn't loving the idea either. "It's not. It won't be. But Kate. . ."

He could see her bite the inside of her cheek, a furious and futile gesture. She dropped her hand, stepped back a little. "How can I bring this guy down, Castle, if I'm in Des Moines? Or Memphis? Or even DC?"

He hated to see the flat resignation in her face. "You will. We will. Ryan and Esposito and the Captain and I are still working on it, have been for the last five months."

"You have?"

"Of course." Castle frowned at her, reached out to put both hands on the tops of her shoulders. He gave her a quick squeeze, a little shake, and then let go. He hadn't meant to crumble her, to raze her walls to the ground. He'd only meant to slip inside them, move past them, find the Kate at the center of all that badass Beckett.

But Beckett had yet to return. He'd assumed the federal-ness of her training had layered extra defenses over the gaps in her armor, but maybe not.

Or maybe she was just so uncertain about him that she had trouble standing firm before him, trouble putting that armor back on.

"Hey. Agent Beckett," he said, staring her down. "We'll get him. Soon. It's just a matter of time."

There it was. A flash of steel at the back of her eyes, as if he could see straight through to her hardened spine. He didn't grin, didn't want to break the spell, but he did think maybe he needed to have a conversation with her about the 27th. And soon.

But not here. Not when he could see Jordan Shaw moving in from the corner of his eye, her face determined. As if she were saying,_ I gave you plenty of time. Now let's get going._

He wasn't nearly ready.

But it would have to be enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Jordan Shaw was just too techno-geek for Beckett's own good.

She'd set up her fancy gear in the suite next door to Castle's (Kate had a sinking suspicion that Castle had paid for Shaw's teams' handful of suites because there was no way the FBI had sprung for these kind of accommodations). Kate sighed and suffered through the two-hour smartscreen presentation, albeit in a sinfully comfortable armchair, not letting herself be wowed by it like Castle would have been, clearly. Castle wasn't here, of course; he couldn't be.

That was something Beckett would have to get used to, excluding him. But it didn't taste right.

She didn't need a smartscreen to explain how her life sucked now. How it had gotten completely turned upside down. How six months ago, she was a police detective doing her job, snarking with her writer-tag-along, breaking up the boys' bets, and catching bodies. How six months ago none of this was even on her radar screen, but now she was a federal agent with a bureau that had more red tape than employees, handcuffed to a job she wasn't sure she even liked, and trying like hell just to keep her head above water.

But she did appreciate Shaw's thorough introduction to Bureau matters, Bureau policies, Bureau protocol. Shaw was trying to make the transition as easy as possible for her, but Beckett-

All she could think about lately was how to get even. How to get her life back.

The problem was, getting even and getting her life back weren't equal. When she finally brought down this guy, finally unmasked the man behind the curtain, she was just as SOL as Dorothy, but without the magic shoes.

And her little Toto waited in the next room, patiently, eager for the yellow brick road.

God, she was tired. She was thinking in terms of Oz, she was so tired. The projector, the dim lights, the droning voice of Jordan Shaw were morphing into a high-tech version of the Emerald City's Throne Room. Beckett wanted to peel off her skirt and panty-hose and crawl into bed.

She hated hose.

The stadium run this morning had come after a three-night, dropped-in-the-wilderness, survival trek. And then lining up for the ceremony, two hours of waiting, then the ceremony's endless speeches on patriotism (like she wasn't a New Yorker, hadn't been in the city during 9-11), and then graduation as each name was called, and then-

She was weary. But it wasn't over yet.

"All right," Shaw said crisply, swiping her hand over her tablet. The digital projector gave Beckett a view of a moldering old home in an urban setting; it looked vaguely familiar. "This is your six-weeks probationary assignment, Agent."

Finally.

"You sound like you're getting a thrill out of saying that," Beckett mused aloud, casting a look over at her. . .boss. So very strange. She missed the boys, the Captain, the old whiteboard with its simple marker, its hand-drawn timeline.

"I am, a little. Don't you? Agent Beckett," Shaw raised her eyebrows and grinned at Kate, then tapped her finger on the tablet. "You remember this case?"

No, she didn't get a thrill thinking about herself as an agent. It wasn't an NYPD detective. But Beckett focused on the image swimming on the hotel room wall. Castle was next door. She wanted to be over there, not here. But here was where she had to be. For now. "Uh, I've been out of it for five months."

"It's been around longer."

Beckett narrowed her eyes, let herself drift over the surface of the photograph, use some of the training she'd just gained for analysis of the-

"Oh."

"Yes," Shaw said. "I've got a team in Cleveland right now cataloging this find."

"Find?" Beckett said faintly, swallowing back her distaste. "His house."

"The house."

"The house where he kept his-"

"Allegedly."

"Is this a test?" Beckett said hotly, turning around to look at Shaw.

"No, Agent Beckett, it is not. I've worked it out so that your 6 weeks of probation is on my team, which meant I had to pull some strings-"

"No, yeah, Jordan. I appreciate that. I do. But these terms? Are you serious with this? The Cleveland PD found remains at this man's house. They haven't determined yet how many, but the body count is pretty high, and the hooker he lured there-"

"I'm serious, Kate. Here's where the FBI is on this one: it's our job to catalog the evidence, whatever evidence we find. Your forensic training in action. In order for me to send you out there, Kate, I need to know that you're not going into this like a cop."

"What does that mean?"

"Cops have a tendency to go with their guts. To react to a face, a feeling about a guy, a vibe-"

"You mean, this guy might creep everyone out, but I need to check my suspicions at the door. The door of his mausoleum of a house."

Shaw glared at her for a second then gave her a short nod.

"So I'm to report to Cleveland?" Beckett felt her chest tighten at the thought. Cleveland wasn't as far away as California, at least, but it wasn't New York.

"In two days' time. You'll be there six weeks, Kate, but it's not house arrest."

She nodded back. "Who's my SAC?"

"Avery is the agent in charge there. It's mostly dirty work, so jeans, the Bureau jacket, your weapon. Most likely, it's just 9 to 5, running for coffees. You're the newbie. Okay?"

Newbie all over again. Rookie. Damn. Beckett watched the motionless photograph of the house. Two stories, a white roof over the front porch, bricked columns. Whitewashed. Siding, most of the porch in wood. It was a crime scene photo, poorly framed, bad angle, and the windows were in shadows.

"Okay." She didn't have much choice.

"Catalog the finds. That and that alone. No investigation, Beckett. No searching for clues or running down leads. It is, first and foremost, all about evidence collection. You're. . .what was the name of your friend? The ME?"

Lanie. "Dr. Parish?"

"Yes. Imagine you've got her job for the next six weeks."

Kate hadn't talked to Lanie in five months. Or Esposito. Or Ryan. Stupidly, she was having a hard time working past the dryness in her throat, the raw edge of loneliness. "All right," she ground out.

"All right. Dismissed. Go find your shadow."

Kate stood up, her fingers twitching for a phone. She wondered if Castle would mind a slight detour from the yellowbrick road.

* * *

><p>He minded. But she let him sit really close while she called Lanie from his cell phone (hers was. . .she didn't know where, but she hadn't been given back any of her personal effects yet). Castle laid out on the hotel room's bed and played with the pantyhose that had bunched up at her ankle while she waited for the phone to connect.<p>

She was going to have to put the kibosh on this touching thing, this incessant touching thing. Kate swatted at his hand and heard the click on the other line.

"Castle? Boy, why you calling me at-"

"Lanie? It's me. It's Kate."

"Kate! Girlfriend, we have so missed you! No, Javi, get your hands off-"

Kate laughed and wiped a hand across her eyes, leaned back into the pillows, listening to Lanie browbeat Esposito. Castle watched her; she gave him a _you've got it coming too_ look and he rolled over onto his stomach, pillowed his head in his arms to stare a little more safely. His feet were at her face now; she shoved them away. At least off the pillows.

"Javier, give me twenty minutes, you ass. No. No. Right now. I guess. Katie, can Esposito talk to you next? He's acting like a big baby, homesick for-"

The phone dropped or got wrestled out of Lanie's hand; Kate heard muffled commotion, the thud of a body hitting the floor, and the rapid Spanish of her old partner.

"Ha! Beckett, yo! I got the phone. There is no way I am waiting for you and motormouth to finish a conversation. Ah-ah-back off, Lanie. Let me say hi and bye, and have you talked to Castle about. . .you know who?"

"I've talked to Castle," she confirmed. His head perked up at his name; he gave her a goofy, ridiculous grin that made her eyes roll automatically, but also shot straight through to her bones like whiskey, warm and poignant. "But not about He Who Must Not Be Named."

"What is that? We gotta find someone else?" Esposito growled.

"Um. Espo. Harry Potter?"

"Is he someone else we gotta run after? Beckett, I am up to here in this-"

"She is talking about the books, you _pendejo_-" That was Lanie; Kate's grin just got even wider, and she could tell by the tilt of Castle's head that he could hear most of this too.

"Hey. Woman! You are not allowed to use Spanish curse words when you do not know-"

"I know enough. Now give me back my phone-" The last was said with ever-rising volume, and then Kate assumed Lanie had her phone back. "Hey, girl, sorry about that. But I am not going to listen to another hour of this stupid conspiracy talk. Sorry, no, not stupid. No. Wait. It *is* stupid. This is stupid, Kate. You are messing around with something you got no idea what it is. The guy that got you fired-"

"Honestly, Lanie, can we not talk about this?"

Kate heard her friend's heavy sigh. Castle put his chin on his hands and continued to watch her. Because he was so close, because she'd been five months without him, because it was late and she was so tired, Kate crawled down and laid next to him, the phone pressed to her other ear, her hand curled up under her chin.

Castle's face went soft; he shifted onto his left side so he could reach out, trace her jaw as she talked.

She had to close her eyes.

"Girl, I don't know what you're doing; I don't want to know what you're doing, but the FBI? You think you gonna be able to use them? Not happening, smart-girl."

"What do you mean?" she said, struggling to pay attention while Castle's featherlight fingers traced patterns down her cheek.

"They are not gonna take kindly to you using their resources, sneaking around behind their back, just so you can solve your mother's murder-"

"Lanie, really. I don't. . .not tonight."

"Why? You got a headache?"

Kate's eyes flew open. "Lanie!" Castle's hand stilled; his eyes met hers, no questions in them, just that wide-open curiosity.

The woman on the other end laughed; the sound swirled rich and soothing both, like coffee. Kate let her eyes drift shut, felt Castle's hand smooth down the column of her throat. She swallowed, just to feel the weight of his fingers against the tendons at her neck.

"All right, Kate. I take it you're talking to me now because you passed?"

"I graduated," she said softly.

"You're a federal agent. Congratulations, sweetie. Where's your boy?"

"Right here," she admitted, opening her eyes. Castle, soft browns and out of focus, shimmered before her. "And I'm only admitting that because I am so dead on my feet that I don't know what I'm saying. Can't hold that against me later."

"I can tell. You sound beat. Five months of beat. But I *am* holding it against you later, regardless. When do you come back to us?"

"Not for awhile. Oh. Well. Actually-" Kate lifted her head a little, arching an eyebrow at Castle. "Um. What are you doing August 27th?"

"I certainly hope I am doing the same thing you are, girl. Going to your wedding."

"Oh. You know?"

"Kate. Everyone knows."

She blinked, turned her face away from Castle, put her back to him. "Everyone?"

"Don't panic. Kate. Don't you dare panic. I can't be there to talk you down from your sabotaging tendencies, you know. Is Castle still there?"

"Everyone?"

"Is he there, Kate Beckett?"

"Yes. Everyone?"

"Are you looking at him, is he hovering at your side like usual?"

"Yes. Lanie, really? Everyone knows?"

"You are not looking at him, are you? Did you turn your back on him? Because I can hear it in your voice, sweetheart. And that is not a good idea. That is classic Sabotage Beckett Syndrome-"

Kate laughed on a sigh and twisted her head to see that Castle had flopped onto his back, watching the ceiling. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."

"And why are you calling me? Talk to Writer Boy while you still can, talk to him about all this *everyone,* okay. Call me back when you have free time. Got that?"

"Yeah." Kate clicked the phone off and curled up on her side, watching him for a moment. The bed was king-sized, the comforter white and thick and so soft, but Castle was lying close to her, and he didn't look comfortable.

Everyone.

"What did you do, Castle?"

His head turned, morose eyes met hers. "I don't know. You might hate it."

Everyone?

She slid his phone across the short distance between them, giving it up. Castle took it back, his right arm crossing his body for it, putting it back into his pocket. It gave her a moment to close her eyes, push it back.

She had two days.

He was rambling now. She tuned in to the middle of a confession about flowers. "You'll hate them. I thought the orchids were a little to sad, after everything before. But I shouldn't have gone with the fake bouquets, I know, but then I wasn't sure you'd even care, really, and this way they last just in case something happens; we'll have them and won't have to redo them. Right? And the-"

Beckett rolled onto an elbow and positioned her body above his, her left hand keeping her balance by pressing her palm into the center of his chest. He shut up.

"Not necessary right now," she whispered and dipped her head down press an open-mouthed kiss along his throat.

He groaned; she felt it travel through her lips and into her own throat. She swallowed it and nibbled the five o'clock shadow over his adam's apple, the stubble in her teeth, worked her way up to the jut of his chin with soothing lips.

"Kate-"

"Mm."

His hands captured the sides of her face, tugged, and she responded, let him guide her up to his mouth, let her tongue slip inside.

Heat and hot, a shiver of electricity that tingled as it spread, a welcome home like a shout.

He broke the kiss to murmur her name, a blessing, against her mouth. She fell against him, no longer able to keep her balance, and he raised his knee between her thighs to trap her there.

She surged upward, her palms between them for leverage, kissed her way to his forehead, pressed kisses to his eyebrows, the ridge of his nose. His hands dropped, tickled her sides with the slightest of touches, worked their way to her shoulders.

"Kate-"

She felt the tug of his hands again, but this time, Castle was bringing her down, back down, as he rolled over on top of her.

"Kate. I missed you." He cupped her face with his hands, layered gentle, quiet kisses against her skin. "I missed you so much. But you're gonna hit a wall unless you get some sleep."

She closed her eyes against the force of his banked need, took a long, deep breath. "I'm so tired-"

"I know, I know-" another kiss brushed her nose, his fingers were light against her cheeks, a hovering that healed even as it intruded.

"But I *want* you-"

"I know. And that's enough right now. Kate." He brushed his thumbs over her lids until she opened her eyes. He was smiling at her. "Bath? I'll get some wine. We'll relax, get a good night's sleep, revisit this in the morning."

She swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat, blinked to keep it in check. She craned her neck to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, brushed her hand up to his temple. Her fingers slid through the soft hair there; from a strange distance, she watched her fingers play with his hair. This was not Kate Beckett's hand, this was not Castle's tad-too-long hair.

And then he sighed.

Oh. "Bath sounds good. But you sound better. Gonna join me?"

"Of course," he grinned. "That was non-negotiable. But it's strictly PG-13 in there, Beckett."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. No way of enforcing that, but I figured you're too tired to take me right now. Or have your way with me against my wishes."

She laughed and hooked an arm around his neck. "Mm, I might not have said it yet. But."

"Yeah?" Something in his eyes caught fire.

"Well, I'm sure you know it."

"Know what?" He was grinning, waiting, those dark depths taking on all kinds of light.

"I don't need to repeat it, do I?"

"Kate," he growled and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth, took a ruthless kiss from her.

She smiled when he pulled away with a grunt, lifted herself up on her elbows to watch him sit back on the bed. He ran both hands down his face and shivered with a little moan. Kate laughed, sat up to follow him.

She snagged one of his hands, drew it towards her chest, trapped it there.

"I love you, Castle. You know that."

His fingers were like a blind man's against her skin, soft and sure.

"Yeah, but I always do better with the words."


	7. Chapter 7

When the wine came, Castle poured her a glass and carried it into the bathroom. They were getting married in a little over a week's time, but they'd spent only two weekends together in the last six months. Reserving only one room for tonight was taking a shot in the dark, but so far, she'd said nothing to him about it.

She'd fallen asleep.

The bubbles had mostly gone flat; her body was lean and sinewy even under the funhouse mirror of the water's surface. His heart skidded in his chest like a puppy with too-big feet on a wooden floor, but Castle managed to set the wine glass on the bathroom vanity without it tumbling from his fingers.

She'd fallen asleep.

He got to his knees on the cold tile, sank down beside the tub, had to remind himself to breathe. Because it was Kate, and she was here, and she was still, even in the water, wearing his ring.

Castle lifted a shaky hand towards her cheek, hesitated as he felt the slow caress of her breath along his wrist. She was curled on her side, cradled by the sloped side of the tub, head turned with her ear parting the landscape of damp hair. The water waved away from her body, then slid back, an endless, soundless motion in time with her breathing.

She looked small, huddled against this side of the tub, knee pulled up, the other leg an arrow, toes grazing the other side. One arm was stretched along the top of the tub, her chin on her shoulder.

"Kate?" he whispered, touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

Her lids slid open, instantly aware. An expectation came over her face, and with it weariness, but when Castle reached for the glass of wine and held it out, the weariness dropped. Relief was a wave over her whole body when he asked for nothing more, when his eyes didn't roam.

"Want this?" he murmured, nudging her fingers with the stem of the glass.

She hummed and her hand flexed, but she sat up, the knee against her chest, and rolled her head on her neck with a wince. "Wanna get out."

"Need help?" Castle couldn't keep the smirk from his voice, even if he had kept it off his face. And she heard it, and glanced over at him, managed to be both intimidating and alluring in that one look.

"Perhaps."

He immediately wanted to back down, tell her never mind, but he'd started the stupid thing, the dance of teasing, coy flirtation, and if she picked it up, then she was a big enough girl to tell him when to stop. Right?

Castle moved to stand, but Kate slid her fingers around his wrist, trapped him there so she could take a sip of her wine before letting him go. He found his knees were shaky when he got up, but he placed the glass on the counter and unfolded a towel, snapping it out in front of his body.

More than just chivalry.

She seemed to know anyway, because the weariness was back, tinged with expectation, but all she did was draw up her other knee and then slowly get to her feet.

Water cascaded, sang down the straight lines of her body. The rope of her wet hair fell apart, brushing her shoulders. Her quick hands captured it, twisted it back behind her neck and redid the short ponytail, tendrils escaping in the humid damp.

Castle held the towel against his chest and watched her, let her see him watching her, and just like she always did, always had, the flush of awareness brought amusement to her eyes and an arch to her brow. She dropped her hands from her hair and met his eyes with that smile that always turned his heart like a spade in new soil.

She said nothing, simply stepped from the tub with a graceful movement that suddenly had her right against him. He wrapped the towel around her, tightly, trapping her arms between them. She leaned her head forward and kissed his collarbone, sparks burning under his skin, traveling through his bones at the contact.

Flat-footed, both of them, was a strange fit of their bodies together, but she was somehow still Beckett, determined even in the intentional press of her hips, the hard jut of her elbows. Castle tucked in one corner of the towel, spread his hands across her back.

The steel-wire strength of the muscles under his palms felt newly hardened, a shell of armor never to be put down. But when his fingers tangled in the chain around her neck, the soft hairs already curling dry, that battle-ready woman seemed to dissolve.

Kate interrupted his morbid thoughts with a soft, hot kiss to his neck, and then she was stepping back, shirking his touch, rewrapping the towel as she walked away.

He finally took a full breath and dropped his hands. Kate was already on her way out the bathroom door, the glass of wine in one hand. Castle rubbed both hands down his face and tried to shake it off.

"Castle?"

"Huh?" he yelled back, coming around the corner only to stumble to a halt, floored.

The towel tossed to the bed, one slender arm reaching down through his suitcase, the long lines of her body folded and bent as she searched through his stuff. "You brought me clothes?"

"Uh. . ." Why was this affecting him so much more than the dance in front of the bathtub? "Uh. Yeah. Shaw said you wouldn't have much."

"You brought a lot."

She hummed as she sorted through stuff, a sound he always associated with that moment right before she thoroughly kissed him or right after he had thoroughly-

Yeah. Think cleaner thoughts, Rick, or you won't make it.

"Uh, your stuff is all at my place."

Her head tilted, an eye coming around to see him even as she pulled a tshirt from the neatly folded clothes taking up two-thirds of Castle's suitcase. She pulled it on over her head and then shimmied into underwear even as he stood there, completely breathless with a melancholy need.

"Why is my stuff at your place?" she asked, shaking her hair out of the ponytail.

He had an answer planned for this, but it had disappeared the moment he turned the corner and saw her standing naked by the suitcase.

As he stood there, Kate leaned forward and snagged the towel, whipped it off the bed, then tossed it past his head through the open bathroom door. Castle heard it hit the floor, wondered if his jaw was down there too.

"Castle?'

"You can't just casually slink around naked, practically do a reverse strip-tease into your pajamas?" (she nodded) "pajamas, and then expect me to be able to think with my brain, to have a good answer to that."

"Well, what was that then?" she laughed, sauntering forward. "If not an answer?"

He backed up quickly, put some much-needed space between them just so his brain could continue to function.

"That was a pretty clever string of words, Castle."

"I have no idea what I just said, but I'm glad it wasn't dirty."

"I didn't say it wasn't dirty," she grinned. "But it had elements of poetry, or at least clever word choice, that I thoroughly enjoyed."

"Kate Beckett, don't do this to me right now," he begged, drawn towards her against his will, meeting her halfway.

She opened her arms to him, not wide, just enough for him to feel every whorl of skin on her fingers as they glided along his waist. "But it's so much fun."

He chuckled against her ear as he hugged her tighter, felt the breath moving back into his lungs. And then she was disappearing again, headed for his suitcase. She hadn't been in his arms nearly long enough.

"So why is all my stuff at your place?"

"Right. Your stuff. Because. . .your lease lapsed."

"Oh. Oh darn," she groaned and spun around, a hand at her forehead. "I totally forgot. How did you-what-"

"The notice came to the station; I guess your landlord was looking for you? Captain got it. I just. . .let myself in and packed everything up and had it stored."

"Oh," she whispered, one eyebrow raised as if she was impressed with him. Maybe she was. "Everything?"

"I. . .didn't know exactly what to do, Kate. We're. . .gonna live together, right?"

She laughed, like that was a joke, but honestly, he just didn't know about her anymore. She sobered when she saw his face; her hand went to the chain around her neck as if she needed to feel it. "Of-of course. What. . .what else?"

"I let the apartment go. I don't know if you're. . .I had to make decisions without you, couldn't even ask you what you wanted-"

"No, no, you did good, Castle." She came towards him again, concern etched into her features. He supposed he looked as worked up as he felt.

"So some of your stuff is in storage at a place near the loft, some of it is actually in the loft. All your clothes are. . .hanging in my closet."

She blinked at him, issued a startled laugh, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I didn't know what to do." He heard the whine in his voice and sighed, wished it didn't feel so wrong to want to reach out for her. Why hold back though?

So he reached out, and she came, her fingers encircling his wrists before letting her palms slide up to his shoulders, her body close but not as close as he wanted it.

Well, he could do something about that too. So he did, and she let him, standing still as he stepped in closer, but she was laughing against his shoulder as he held her there.

"I guess we should've. . .talked about all of this earlier." Her voice was rich against his ear.

"The weekend before you left?"

"No. Maybe not."

Because they both knew what they'd done that weekend, and words weren't really a part of it. Or necessary. And he wouldn't trade that weekend for anything.

"Well. Thank you for saving my stuff, Castle. What did you bring with you? Other than tshirts." She shrugged her shoulders under his hands and smiled.

He grinned back. "That's my tshirt, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart, kitten. And just for that, you're not getting it back either."

"Who said I wanted it back? Not unless giving it back entails lots of naked Kate."

She was disappearing from his arms again, but smiling as she did. Castle sighed but she had only headed for the bed, slid onto it with perfect, long-limbed grace. Kate stretched a hand out for him and he came, of course he did, dropping beside her.

She was already leaning back against the headboard, so he stretched out, tired himself, his head against her hip. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply of her skin. In a moment, she had her fingers running through the hair at his forehead, light and erotic.

He felt her lips brush his skin, the hum of her pleasure, and opened his eyes to watch her.

She looked less like herself now than she had all day. Eyes fatigued, fingers in his hair, shoulders bowed. The reality of not having an apartment seemed to have washed over her. And then she turned on her side and slid down to lay alongside him, her head on her arm. Softness blurred her face; the hard lines of her exhausted, battle-ready body melted into the bed.

"What else happened while I was gone? What have I missed?"

Castle didn't want to talk; he wanted to touch her, wanted to wrap himself around these news lines, merge her new self into his old self, make them line up again.

It would never happen though; she'd always hold herself apart. He wouldn't want her quite so fiercely if she didn't. She wouldn't be Kate if she didn't.

"You missed the naked dude who walked a picket line in front of the 12th," he said, giving her a grin. "A ginger. A natural ginger. Not sure what his deal was, but you shoulda seen Esposito's face."

She grinned back, leaned over to press her lips to his temple. Her fingers still trailed through his hair. "I meant with the boys, the case, you big goofball."

"That was a pretty big deal. I mean, we talked about it for weeks. We made a life-sized replica and put him in the break room; Ryan told Esposito that Ginger got booked naked and was put in his chair-"

"Oh my gosh, I leave for a couple months and you turn it into a frat house," she laughed.

"You should never leave again," he said solemnly. And then he realized that she would never be back there. She'd never return as a detective.

Kate sighed and drew her hand away, curled it under her chin. "Seriously, Castle. I feel out of it. I need to know-"

"I'll fill you in, I promise." Castle rolled onto his side so he could slide his arm around her shoulders, bring her closer. "Tomorrow. Just. . .forget about it tonight."

"You found something," she said softly, leaning her head back to look at him. There was energy in her eyes again. "I can see it on your face."

"Kate."

"Don't you dare, Castle. Don't handle me. You tell me what's going on."

"We didn't exactly find something. . .we lost something."

He felt her hand clutch his bicep, the dig of her nails into his skin. "What?"

"After you left for DC, Esposito took up your visits with Lockwood. He said Lockwood took one look at him, then turned back around and called for the guard-"

"What?"

"Esposito tried to push his buttons, but the guard came in. As he led Lockwood out, he turned back to Esposito and said, 'Your girl's gone now.'"

Castle could feel Kate's heart race under the ribs in her back; he swallowed thickly and continued the story.

"It must've been a pre-arranged thing. A sign. Once Lockwood saw you were out, it set some plan in motion. In the next two hours, prison transfer orders came in for Lockwood to be placed back in the general population."

"No," she breathed. She broke his grip to sit up, pushing a hand through her hair, as if there was something she could do about it.

"Already done, Kate," he said, rolling onto his back to watch her. "He was transferred and thirty minutes later, guards found McCallister dead in his cell-"

"No," she moaned and buried her head in her hands.

"Lockwood didn't even resist. Stood over him with the blade." Castle sat up and pressed a hand to her back, waited awkwardly for her to acknowledge him. After a moment, she lifted her head and swallowed.

"McCallister is dead."

"Lockwood's arraignment on murder charges is slated for tomorrow-"

"I need to be there."

"Tomorrow, in the city. In like. . .twelve hours, Kate-"

"I have to be there. Castle, he can't get away with this-"

"Esposito was gonna-"

"No. It has to be me. This case is unraveling quickly, and I need to be there."

"And what can you possibly do there? Obviously, this was the plan all along. Get you out of the NYPD, set up Lockwood with McCallister, clean up all the loose ends."

"Lockwood himself is a loose end," Kate said slowly, turning her head to look at Castle. "If something is gonna happen, it'll happen at arraignment. I need to be there."

He watched her a moment, read the conviction in her eyes. "I'll get us a flight," he said, rolling off the bed to grab his phone.

Kate, still in just a tshirt and underwear, slid off the bed as well. "I'll call Montgomery and-"

Castle caught her eye as she stuttered to a stop in front of his suitcase.

"I have no phone. No clothes. No apartment-"

"Hey, hey," Castle paused, picking up his phone from the coffee table. "You have a place, Kate. With me."

She shrugged at him. Like that didn't count.

"You need a phone? Here." He thrusted his phone at her. "You call whoever you want to. Montgomery would love to hear from you, I know he would."

She cradled the phone against her chest, glanced down at it, then frowned up at him. "What's this?"

He paused as she held up his phone. He had a notification on the screen. "Oh. Yeah. Words with friends."

"From Jordan Shaw?" she said, her eyebrow raised so high up on her forehead he wondered if it would ever come back down.

Castle grabbed his phone and pulled up the game. "Look! She's almost 100 points ahead of me. How does she do that? She's wicked good at Scrabble and-"

"Castle."

He lifted his eyes.

She looked very close to irritated with him. "Just. Get us a flight." Kate rolled her eyes and bent over to the suitcase. She pulled out pants and started sliding them on.

Phone in hand, he watched her a second. "What are you doing?"

"You're booking us a flight, right?"

His mouth dropped open, all his plans for the night fled. "I. . .Yes. But, right now?"

Kate looked up at him, stood to pull up her pants, button them. "When else?"

"Tomorrow morning? Kate, I know you're all. . .hard-bodied and ready to kick ass and take some names, but I've been up since four o'clock this morning and I'm beat. I want to sleep. At least eight hours."

It wasn't him; he had no concerns for himself. It was the memory of her asleep in the bathtub, the look of her face as she laid next to him in the bed. She needed to crash, and hard, but she was moving around the room like a caged tiger.

Her hands went to her hips. "You can sleep on the plane, Castle. I've seen you do it before."

He opened his mouth, shut it to frown at her. Standstill.

"Fine." Kate held her hand out for his phone again, wriggled her fingers. "You don't have to come. I'll go alone."

Castle shook his head. "No. I'm coming. Just. Give me a second to make reservations."

Kate was already turning back to the suitcase as Castle tapped the screen of his phone. He watched her a moment, the lines around her mouth, the fall of her hair as she bent over her clothes.

Castle sighed and searched for the next flight out.


	8. Chapter 8

"How much is this costing us?" she asked, still keyed up by the sticky tension of the security check, her weapon, the new badge she was still unfamiliar with.

Beside her in the hard, plastic chairs of Dulles Airport, Castle shifted to give her a look. "Are you using the term 'us' because you recognize that in ten days' time it will be your money as well, or was that reference an indication of your misguided notion that you will be paying me back?"

She raised an eyebrow, battled back her amusement. "Ah. The first?"

"Good answer." Some of the irritation melted out of his voice and he leaned closer, putting his elbow on the armrest between them. "You know, Beckett, I have no intention of making you a kept woman."

Equal parts relief and indignation arose at the tenor of his voice.

"But I do plan on making you an honest woman."

She twisted in her seat, rearing back to glare at him. "An honest woman? Castle-"

"Honest. I think marrying you is the only way to keep you from lying to yourself about us. About what this is. So, yeah, Kate. An honest woman."

She narrowed her eyes, but couldn't keep back the curling ribbon of her amusement. "How long have you been cultivating that one, Castle? Carefully rewording it, editing it, revising it until it was just right."

He grinned like a little boy. "Ages." Castle leaned in, collared her around the neck with his palm, and brought her in close for one of his happy kisses, wet and quick. "Ever since I found the ring, had it engraved."

She pulled back, twisting to dislodge his hand. Kate instead caught hold of the lapel of his sport coat, gave him the brief smile he was yearning for. "All right then. An honest woman. And to be honest, Castle, you're most likely right."

He nodded, affirmed, and leaned back in the hard chair.

"While we're being honest, is there anything else you want to tell me?" She crossed her arms, crossed her legs; her foot tapped as they waited.

"Uh. . .do I?"

She automatically restrained her smirk, old habit, but then the warmth of his arm against her shoulder sent it tumbling free. Kate turned to him, let him see it, then slid a hand free to drop over his on his knee.

He turned his palm up to meet hers, practically beaming with happiness. He was so easy.

"I just meant about the case."

"There might be other things I should tell you," he offered. "But I won't know what they are until we come to them."

"You mean like the fact that all my clothes are hanging up in your closet?"

"That's got nothing to do with the case. But, uh, yeah."

"And that Lanie said _everyone_ knows about the wedding."

"Oh. She's exaggerating." He gave her an open-faced look, full of innocence and charm. That was his tell.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, can you quantify everyone, Kate? No, you cannot."

"Castle. Who. Is. Everyone."

She could feel him squirm next to her.

"Just. You know. My family. Yours. People at the 12th. Some others."

Suddenly she got a glimpse of what the two of them must look like to an outsider, as they sat side by side in the airport, hands clasped, her face dark and thunderous, his chastised and uncomfortable. Only the two of them knew what lay beneath the surface, the currents swirling between them, all the things not said.

But did Castle really know? She wasn't sure, now that she thought about it. She'd said it, right? She'd told him to set a date, and she was wearing the ring around her neck, and she'd spent the weekend with him before the interview-

And then she was gone for five months, had been irritated to see him at her graduation, had promptly run to Shaw for her briefing, then fell asleep in the bathtub, and now-

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

She shifted in the chair, squeezed his fingers. "Wanna join the Mile High Club?"

Kate loved the sputtering, stunned man he turned into whenever she blindsided him with her sensual side. It was. . .delicious. "Do not joke with me, Katherine Beckett."

She let her mouth slide into a slow, calculating smile. "We can only try."

Castle sat up and leaned closer, his face a comedy mask barely able to contain his excitement. "Oh, Kate. Oh, please. Seriously?"

"Hmm, in the bathroom I guess. Right? That's where it's usually-" And then she had a terrible thought, and felt her inner bitch rise up. "You haven't. . .done this already have you?"

"No! Never! Seriously, Kate?" Then a frown crossed his face. "Have you?"

She bit back a grin of. . .possession, that's what it was, and shook her head. "No. Never wanted to. Can we both fit in those little bathrooms?" Kate leaned forward as well, realizing belatedly that there was a family sitting in the plastic chairs just across from them.

Castle's face took on disappointment. "Oh. Oh man. I hadn't thought of that. Might not. Aw _man_."

Kate laughed and leaned over to press her lips to the wrinkled forehead, then the pouting mouth. "Poor baby. So close and yet so far."

"You knew all along. You set me up."

"No, never." But she knew she wasn't being convincing, and purposefully, so his face fell even further.

"But you said we could try," he whined.

She grinned, couldn't help it at all; it just beamed, cracked wide over her face. "I did say that, didn't I?"

His head came up; his hands around hers squeezed. "Really?" He sounded nearly breathless, and honestly, just thinking about wrapping her legs around him, thousands of feet in the air, moving against him-

"Suddenly, I'm not all that tired anymore," she said softly.

"Kate Beckett. . .you will always be a mystery, an amazing, sexy mystery," he murmured, and there was such adoration in his eyes, adoration and gratitude and arousal, that she thought she might not be able to breathe.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, Castle, we're gonna have to find a bathroom on the ground."

Castle grinned that lazy, cocky grin that sparked the heat in her.

She couldn't help leaning forward and stealing that grin from him with her mouth, hot and deep, using her teeth to tug on his lower lip as she retreated, barely swallowing a moan.

Yeah, now he wasn't so cocky.

* * *

><p>Oh my word. He could barely contain himself. He managed to get both of their carry-on bags into the overhead compartment, carefully because Kate's weapon was disassembled and wrapped in his boxers inside his suitcase. That had been the snafu with security earlier, despite her badge.<p>

Her FBI badge. Which was so cool. And Agent Beckett was going to meet up with him in the lavatory onboard for a little stripsearch, let her check for *his* weapon-

Yeah, okay, he had to cool down because he needed to look nonchalant as he headed back there. After her. He could barely pay attention to the flight attendants and the pre-flight checks; his knee bounced as he buckled in, as he flipped through SkyMall, as Kate slowly crossed her legs and adjusted herself in her seat. She was wrapping her long hair up into a ponytail, leaving the ends tucked into the band, all messy and adorable.

"You can't do that," he whispered insistently to her, leaning in so that no one would overhear.

She shot him a startled look. "Do what?"

"Look so inviting, and delicious, and sexy. Not when you've got me all. . ." He gestured toward himself, growled at her sudden spark of a smile.

"Hot and bothered there, Castle?"

"You are such a tease. It's so not funny."

But she was smirking still, and it added a joy to her eyes that he absolutely adored, in a way he could never explain to her because she didn't spend eight or ten hours a day studying her own eyes, her own face, searching for the secret to that lovely, amazing joy. And it looked like the source was him. Castle himself. And that was beyond belief.

Her fingers came up between them, her elbow on the armrest, and she gently stroked his cheek, the stubble that had thickened down his jaw. She kissed him lightly, a press of lips only, and he could barely breathe.

And then her thumb slowly, painstakingly brushed across his lips, the feeling so exquisite and finite and sharply beautiful that he had to close his eyes.

"Mm, love you," she rasped.

Oh God. He opened his eyes, startled, swamped with it, and met her gaze. She looked just as stunned as he felt, and her mouth had fallen open with astonishment.

He chuckled, but his heart was still squeezed tightly. "You didn't know you were gonna say that, did you?"

She hummed again, cleared her throat. She shook her head, her eyes coming back to meet his. "Not-no. Just, came out."

He smiled widely, palmed her cheek to pull her mouth to his, a fervent and thankful kiss. "Love you too. So much."

When he pulled back, he thought maybe, just maybe, her eyes were suspiciously wet.

At that moment, the plane began to taxi down the runway, the flight attendants were closing overhead bins and getting stuff settled. They had first class seats, because honestly, they were the only seats left available for this late flight, but it meant they had all this nice room to stretch out, and his knees didn't hit the back of the seat in front of them.

Only, funny enough, Kate was still tangled up with him, sitting closer than she had to, which was kinda strange in its unfamiliarity, but it was more than nice. It was an early Christmas gift. An early wedding present. But that wet look in her eyes was quickly unmanning him.

"Can we do it now?" he stage-whispered.

She snorted at him, rolling her eyes, the moment over. He was grateful for her sake; she'd kept it together. "We have to actually get into the air for it to count."

"Right. Yeah. In the air." He grinned; he knew it looked lascivious.

Castle fidgeted in his seat, glancing out the window, then turned back to her with another question on his lips only to find that she was studying his profile intently, that the tender look in her eyes had returned.

"Kate? Backing out on me?"

She shook her head. "You might not know this about me, Castle. But of the two of us, I'm the wild one."

Every time. She left him completely floored every time.

The plane sucked in air, and the engines whined, and suddenly they were being borne aloft, threading their way through the thin clouds, higher and higher, the cloud cover disappearing. He remembered, unexpectedly, a four or five-year old Alexis softly singing "A Whole New World" from Aladdin, telling him that it was like a magic carpet ride.

It was magic. How could it not be? Sure, his guts had been left back on the tarmac, but that might've been due to Kate's saucy look and the excitement he felt.

"We should do this before a lot of people get up to use the bathroom," she said softly. "Because if it smells in there, I don't care how amazing you make me feel, Castle, I will not-"

He swiveled his head from the window to look at her. "I make you feel amazing?"

She stumbled to a stop, her words halting as they stared at each other. Kate opened her mouth again, blinked, and then laughed. "Well, yes."

He grinned and felt the way his whole face crinkled up with it. "Awesome."

Kate rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort, but the seatbelt light went off over their heads.

Castle was so excited he could barely sit still. "Kate!"

"I see it. Someone is antsy." She smirked again, like she couldn't quite believe him. Castle shoved on her arm.

"Didn't you have a lot of water before the flight? Don't you need to go?"

She half-stood, her head still ducked under the overhead bins (she was taller than most women, and even in first class, she had to duck, and he *loved* that, and he didn't know why right now, but he did). Kate reached out to capture his ear with her fingers, bringing him closer with a tug.

It wasn't pain so much as sharp pleasure as he came closer, and then she was claiming his mouth with hers, deep and wet and mind-spinning, her tongue doing things to his that he never saw coming. And of course, there was the caress of her fingers and thumb at his ear.

It took him a moment to realize she'd left, that she was halfway down the aisle towards the bathroom.

He couldn't wait. Could he wait? Long enough? He chewed on his thumbnail in a completely uncharacteristic state of high anxiety, glanced surreptitiously down the aisle after her. She was already stepping into the bathroom; she'd seen him leaning out and gave him a quirk of her eyebrow.

He had a terrible feeling this was going to be entirely too quick an encounter. Of course, he could have a lot of fun making it up to her.

Castle stood and made his way back towards the middle of the plane where the bathrooms for first class were located. His steps slowed when he saw the two flight attendants busily stocking their drink carts from the galley located alongside the bathrooms. Kate's still said unoccupied, so he reached out for the latch, nervous.

"Oh, oh, sir! Someone just went in there," a helpful voice said.

Castle swallowed and glanced over. The stewardess was bending over to gather a handful of packaged snacks; she stood up and dumped them in a drawer of her cart and smiled at him.

"I. . .I know," he said lamely.

She tilted her head and gave him a look like she'd give a child, as if he might not have heard her the first time. "I see it says it's empty, but it's really not. I saw a woman go in there." She was so earnest, it was killing him.

"I know. It's my-" He faltered over the word, his mind racing through all his options. "My wife. She left something."

He knew it sounded weird, but he half-smiled and opened the door, catching sight of Kate inside. She'd already started unbuttoning her jeans, her hands were on her hips, wriggling to get them down.

He swallowed hard.

"Who were you talking to?" she whispered, frowning at him when he didn't immediately step inside.

"Flight attendant. She's right outside the door."

Kate chewed her bottom lip. "Still?"

"Still. Told her I had to give you something." Castle cast a look over at the woman, but she was still filling her cart. The other flight attendant had started down the aisle with hers, working her way back, so Castle assumed this one would head towards the first class passengers.

"I don't think she's gonna move," Castle hissed, stepping closer but still blocking any view of Kate's body with his own and with the open door.

Kate frowned, her hands stilled. "Don't just stand there."

"What should I do? If I come in, she'll know-"

Kate groaned and leaned forward, her forehead against his chest. She let out a long sigh. "Go sit down, Castle."

He sighed heavily as well, took another quick peek at the flight attendant. She was now openly watching him, suspicion on her face, hands on her hips. She probably wanted to get past him to start serving the first class passengers.

Damn. "All right," he said, giving up. Kate leaned back, pushing off his chest with her palms. He saw real, honest disappointment shining in her eyes, and somehow, that helped.

Castle shut the door on her and slunk back to his seat.


	9. Chapter 9

"It would never have worked," she said, dropping the plastic shopping bag in his foyer and turning back to him.

Castle was struggling to get his keys out of the door to his loft, his face a mask of disappointment. He'd been mopey all flight long.

"It was too small. And we would've had only about fifteen minutes-"

"That's all I needed," he said morosely.

She snagged his hand and pulled it away from the door, then took over the job of coaxing his key out of the lock. Kate had it within seconds, turned around to see him rolling his suitcase to the hallway.

She paused a moment, let it soak in that she was actually in Castle's apartment, that she was actually going to stay with him in his own room from now until. . .forever.

She swallowed hard. Wow.

He'd stopped to look back at her. "Kate?"

"Where do you want your keys?" she asked, trying to cover her hesitation.

"Uh, just. Bring them with you. I try to keep them on my dresser or I'll lose them."

So now she had to follow him back to his room, her heart slowing as she neared the hallway. He was already in his room now; he took hold of the handle on his suitcase, swung it around. He disappeared from her view.

She was at Castle's apartment. For good. Her clothes were hanging in his closet.

Kate stepped into the room, pausing on the threshold to watch him unzip the suitcase, start pulling a few things out. Was he unpacking? She'd never figured him for the type to unpack the moment he got home; if she'd ever thought about it, and she really hadn't, she might have expected him to leave it for much, much later.

As she watched, Castle took out his bag of toiletries and started for the bathroom. So maybe he *didn't* unpack everything, just the necessities. Or maybe he felt it was pointless to unpack when they'd be heading for Cleveland soon. She followed him, hesitating again when he stopped and met her eyes in the mirror.

She realized she didn't know what to do. Or how much she *could* do, here in his home. She'd sleep in his bed, she'd pull out clothes from his closet, but did she need to ask to take a shower, brush her teeth? Could she raid the fridge at one in the morning when she woke from a nightmare, or go get a book to read on the couch until she fell asleep?

She wasn't even sure where her toothbrush was. The stuff from Quantico had mostly gone to the trash. She had shoved anything she wanted into Castle's suitcase when they'd packed for their flight home, but most of it she'd left. The running shorts, the khaki and polo uniform for classes, the stupid trainee hat.

"Kate? All your stuff is here," he said, gesturing to the sink before him. Twin vanities in gorgeous granite countertops, a sweeping mirror, the peek at a massive shower, the sinfully deep bathtub. "I made room."

Then she really looked and saw her electric toothbrush in its base next to what she could only assume was his toothbrush; she noticed a familiar line-up of face wash, lotion, and toothpaste in a neat row next to the sink, placed exactly the same way as she'd had them in her own apartment. Her bathrobe hung on a hook next to the shower stall.

"You made room," she repeated, then watched in amazement as he opened the medicine cabinet and she saw her razor, her assortment of beauty products, even that last box of tampons, half-empty.

He had made room. She leaned forward, hazarding a guess as to where he might have stowed her make-up, and opened up the bottom drawer in the cabinet between the two sinks. There it all was. Organized just as she had left it. Now in Castle's master bathroom, in as close to the same position as she'd had it in her own place.

She leaned back against the tiled wall separating the sinks from the shower. "This is. . .a little creepy, Castle."

"It is?"

She glanced at him in time to see the wash of disappointment on his face, felt badly for letting her mouth run away with her.

"But it's also. . .very sweet," she said softly, hoping to make up for it.

When Castle regarded her, she was sad to see the hesitance on his face, the guarded expression. "I didn't know what else to do, Kate."

She chewed on her lower lip. Kate pushed off against the wall and came towards him, knowing it was up to her to fix it but not knowing exactly how. "You did just fine."

"You can move anything you want, rearrange anything-"

"I'm sure you found good homes for everything," she said quickly, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder, his skin hot even through his crisp, French blue dress shirt. The blue made his eyes so brilliant, made the lines of his body so solid.

"No, I mean, you can move my stuff. Anything in the whole apartment. Well, maybe not Alexis's room. Even though she's leaving, I still-"

"I wouldn't dare touch Alexis's room," she interrupted. "Castle. You did good."

"I did?" He cleared his throat and nodded once, glanced down at his hands. "I'm not sure what we do next, Kate."

She smiled at him, because he looked like he needed a smile, and felt her hesitance disappear in the face of his concern. "I'm going to take a shower, brush my teeth, and then crawl into bed with you. That okay?"

He gulped and nodded, some of that original lust flaring in his eyes. Somehow, it was comforting to see; it was familiar. She reached down and took his bag of toiletries from him, dropped it on the counter, then put both hands at his chest, stepping in close, their thighs brushing.

It had been sweet of him, spending the last five months arranging things just like she'd had them in her own apartment, trying to get it right, hoping to make her feel welcome, at home. It was sweet and a little silly and exactly what she'd needed, even though she hadn't known she needed it.

She leaned in and slanted her mouth over his, working at his bottom lip first, sucking on the pout he'd displayed throughout the remainder of their flight, nibbling the corner of his mouth until his hands came up into her hair to hold her there.

She drew back long enough to catch the heavy-lidded arousal in his face, then aimed for his jaw, nibbling at the sharp demarcation of his chin and up the broad line of his mandible until she was breathless and dizzy at his earlobe.

His hands were under her shirt and sliding up and down, slow and soft strokes that made her arch against him, hungry and wanting. He kissed the sweep of her cheek, dragged his lips down to her neck as she struggled to keep hold of her wits.

A tug on her hair had her pulling away to see him devouring her with his eyes, greedy for her, drinking her in. She licked her bottom lip and he moaned, crashed his forehead down to hers with a little pant. Her skull bumped his.

"What is it with you and bathrooms, Kate? Always trying to jump my bones in the bathroom."

She laughed breathlessly, felt the rush of blood in her body, wanted nothing better than to push him to the floor, then straddle him.

The violent force of the image had her knees running to water, and she sagged, felt his arms holding her up.

"Take this off," she said finally, pushing on his hips to get him away. "Take it off and get in the shower with me. We can pretend we're cruising at 30,000 feet."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

* * *

><p>Castle had fallen asleep, which he was mortified about the moment he woke, but Kate was asleep as well. He lifted his head and was surprised to find her leg tangled between his with her body stretched diagonally across the bed, her face turned away from him.<p>

He was squeezed onto one side and had fallen asleep on his back, and apparently, he had even slept the night through because it was that slant of brilliant sunlight across his eyes that had woken him.

Rick checked the clock - 7:30; the arraignment was scheduled for that morning at nine and his daughter was slated to leave for college at noon. He was driving Alexis there with her stuff crammed into the back of his car, while Ashley drove his own car behind them.

He wasn't looking forward to leaving his daughter at college. His guts churned at the idea. And leaving her with Ashley seemed somehow worse. It wasn't, of course, and Ashley was a great guy with a gentleman's attitude towards his daughter, but it didn't matter.

Castle wasn't ready. He had wanted Alexis and Kate to have time to be at ease with each other before the wedding, before everything changed. He'd wanted Kate to be with him when he had to leave his daughter at her dorm, be his back-up on this one.

But she'd go to the arraignment today and probably meet up with Esposito and Ryan and the Captain to get a jump on this.

He was fine with that; he understood it. He really did.

It just. . .sucked.

Kate stirred, grunted as she woke up, then rolled over, a little closer now. "I've got a huge bruise on my back, you neanderthal," she muttered.

"You were the one who invited me into your shower," he laughed, his heart easing a little, grateful that somehow she'd known he needed a laugh. Or at least, grateful for her very good timing.

Kate slid her hand across the sheets and over his arm, squeezing. "Mm, I did. Make up for missing out on the Mile High Club?"

"Just about." He grinned at her raised eyebrow; even with the side of her face squashed into the pillow and her eyes still sluggish with sleep, she was good at displaying her irritation.

"Well, that's all you're gonna get, so it'll have to," she said.

"All. . .ever?" He gasped and rolled onto his side to trap her under his body.

She did some kind of trick with her leg and flipped them over. The air rushed out of his lungs on a gasp; Kate was perched on his chest with a triumphant grin.

"Maybe not ever," she whispered and dropped her mouth to his for a slow kiss. After a thorough investigation, she pulled back and licked her lips. "Morning breath."

"You started it."

"I'm not exactly complaining. Just commenting." Her eyes were smirking. If that were possible.

He untangled his hand from beneath the sheets and brought it up to touch the hair that had fallen forward, let his fingers skim through it. She'd cut her hair short for the training, but it was still soft and thick. It curled easily this way, especially since she hadn't used the hair dryer after their shower. It was different, and he liked it, liked how it reminded him of the first time he'd seen her.

Kate Beckett was in his bed at seven-thirty in the morning,_ lounging_ in his bed even. He brushed his thumb over her cheek and she turned her head into his palm to snag that thumb with her teeth. Her tongue, wet and hot, circled around and around, had him gasping, thrusting his hips into the angles of her body.

"Make it quick, Castle," she whispered, undulating against his hips, pressing herself down.

"Quick?"

"Arraignment today. And then Alexis."

"Alexis?" he grunted, trying to think, unable to think when she did that, that thing- "Oh!"

She chuckled and slid her hands up under his shirt, her knees on either side of his thighs, seemingly taking her time for a woman who'd demanded it quick. "Your daughter, Alexis?"

"Uh, jeez, Kate, what does she have to do with this?"

Kate's hands stopped and he gathered enough brain cells to open his eyes and look at her.

"Hopefully, she has nothing to do with this." Kate raised an eyebrow at him. "But she *is* leaving for college today, if I'm not mistaken. That's what you told me."

"Yeah. Yeah, she is. I'm taking her at noon."

Kate lifted up, moving her hips out of contact with his. "Am I. . .Did Alexis just want it to be the two of you?"

He blinked and tried to calm the erratic pulse pounding through his body. "Not that I know of. She mentioned wondering if you'd be back in time."

"I thought. . .I figured I'd go too," Kate said, chewing on her bottom lip. "But if she'd rather I didn't-"

Castle lifted his head to look at her. "Really? You want to - Yeah, I want you to come. Alexis will too. But the arraignment?"

"It's at nine. Plenty of time."

"But I thought you'd want to. . .you know. . ." He put his arm behind his head to keep his head propped up, his other hand at her waist.

She slid off of him onto her side, putting her hand under her head, watching him carefully. "I'd want to what?"

He wondered what that look in her eyes was. "Get started on the case, try to get a jumpstart on things. You've got to be in Cleveland Friday morning."

She shook her head at him. "I don't have to report there until Monday. Jordan gave me the weekend."

"How did that happen?"

"When I talked to Jordan at the airport on your phone, I told her I was flying back to the city for Lockwood's arraignment-"

"Oh. She knew it was for your mother's case-"

"No, actually. She was fine with me coming back for that, but it was when I told her we had to get Alexis to college-"

Castle laughed, nudged her shoulder. "You shamelessly used my daughter to get the weekend off."

"I did not. I didn't even know that was possible. But she said she'd tell Avery I was coming in Monday morning; she told me to make it work, make it up to you." Kate gave him a look that he knew meant he was in for some rough times as the partner to a woman in the FBI. "So we have a few days. We can get Alexis to college, and then distract you with the case when we get back."

"I will need a lot of distraction," he said mournfully. "I don't know that the case will be enough."

"I can help too," she answered, leaning forward to brush her lips across his nose. "You big baby."

"How about we get back to that quick distraction you mentioned?"

She glanced over her shoulder at the alarm clock. "I don't know. It's almost eight. . . ." She turned back around with a too-innocent look, her eyes wide.

He growled at her, leaned in to wrap his fingers around her neck and tug her forward. "Don't be a tease, Kate."

"But it's just sooo much fun, Castle."

* * *

><p>Dread filled the hollowed out space in her as she sat down next to Rick. Lockwood was in the prisoner's cage at the front of the courtroom as they waited for his arraignment to start.<p>

Her head turned at the thud of the door opening behind her. Two uniformed officers sauntered down the aisle; one gave her a look and she felt the indignation heat her chest, creep up her neck. She might not be a NYPD detective any longer, but she had every right to be here.

It stung that it had taken her FBI credentials to get her inside though. The bailiff hadn't been happy about letting her retain her weapon either.

Beside her, Castle squirmed in his seat. He hadn't heard what Lockwood had hissed at her through the cage bars, but she knew he had an idea it wasn't anything good.

"I'm sorry," Castle said softly, his hand brushing the outside of her thigh.

"What for?"

"It just seems like every time we find a new lead, something happens to shut it down. Lockwood murdered McCallister, McCallister murdered Raglan. All the cops that had something to do with your mother's murder are dead. There's that mysterious third man, but we have no way of getting his identity now."

She shook her head at him, gave him her best stoic-cop face. "This is actually what I've been waiting for; it's a break in the stalemate. I've been having a staring contest with the devil, and the devil blinked."

Castle was silent for a moment as the judge moved through the daily business. Lockwood was about twenty-seven down on the docket; they'd arrived early. Castle didn't look convinced.

"Look, Ryan's running down the transfer order; we know the signature was forged, but it had to have been done by someone with access. He's looking into correctional officers and clerical workers with authorization. This guy, the Dragon? Whoever he is, he left a trail. And we'll find it."

She knew she sounded too enthusiastic, too intense. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"What did Lockwood say to you just now?" Castle asked.

So he'd heard the tone in her voice as well. He must have figured she was the one rattled rather than the reverse.

"Nothing important."

"You went up there cocky and confident, Beckett, and when you came back, you looked shaken-"

"I'm fine." She said it reflexively, and winced even as she said it. "He said. . .he said not even the FBI could save me."

Castle's hand squeezed tight around her knee; he caught her eyes and she could see the rising tide of worry in his. Her dread multiplied.

"It's fine, Castle. He was just. . .pissing me off."

The dread rose in her throat now, like bile she couldn't keep down. She turned her head away from Castle, her eyes blinded momentarily on the chrome collar pins of the two officers sitting to her right. Lockwood was tense and restless in his cage.

Waiting.

The court was made to rise before the judge.

"Matter number 27 on the list, the People of the State of New York vs. John Doe, AKA Hal Lockwood. The matter is on for arraignment. Counselors for the record, and who you represent, please."

Her heart was pounding; she didn't know why. Saliva pooled in her mouth; her dread made her skin prickle, extra sensitive to the slightest stimuli.

Castle's fingers founds hers, tugged. "What is it?" he whispered.

"I don't know." She shook her head, winced when the morning light caught the metal on the officers' uniforms again, positioned at just the wrong angle. She had spots on her vision, Lockwood looked content enough to wait-

"Mr. Lockwood, do you waive a formal reading of this indictment?"

"I do," said with a sneer and sudden look to the gallery.

Kate narrowed her eyes, felt her brain click into gear. "Collar pins. The sunlight hit chrome collar pins-"

"What?"

"NYPD collar pins are brass," she whispered, her mouth dry, already slapping her jacket aside for her gun. Brass. Chrome. Not-

"Now!" Lockwood yelled.

Kate felt it in her guts a moment before Lockwood yelled; it was the only thing that saved them.

"Castle, down!"

She shoved her shoulder into Castle's side and brought him to the floor even as she heard the clinking roll of a grenade across the floor. Then the too-bright flash seared her eyelids, the percussive boom rattled her brain and scrambled her reflexes, shoved her hard into her partner.

Under her, Castle groaned. Her head had smacked the floor, and she was unable to make her limbs work. She couldn't make anything out through the smoke and haze and the after-images of the flash. She felt feet rushing past, sensed the bodies coming down the aisle, the mad dash for escape.

"Castle, you okay?" she yelled.

She watched his mouth move, but heard nothing; he waved an all-clear sign and she pushed to her feet, stumbling badly.

Lockwood was getting away. Damn it, he was already out of the court room.

Kate couldn't make her body work with her brain; she bounced off the gallery seats and careened into the door, fell to her knees outside and landed on something sharp.

Leg shackles. Handcuffs. She growled and squeezed her fingers around the chains as she rose to her feet.

All around her, people were on the floor. Another flash grenade, or perhaps a burst of gunfire; her ears were ringing, she wouldn't have heard either. A woman at her feet blinked.

"Where?" Kate yelled, pulling her gun out from its holster. She couldn't shake the ringing in her ears.

The woman waved towards the staircase. "Down," she seemed to say.

Kate took off at a run, head-checked the staircase for crossfire, then flew down the steps two at a time. She was at the tipping point of her control when she hit the first floor; she slid along the buffed floor then barely regained her traction.

Just ahead of her, she could make out Lockwood going at a too-fast clip, the fake police officers covering him. Neither paused to line her up in their sights, so she ran full tilt after them, heedless.

They were through the front doors now, and a ferocious thundering was replacing the ringing in her ears. A fucking _helicopter_. She grit her teeth and dug in, pushing the already-exhausted muscles in her thighs to get her there faster.

Too late. As she hit the front doors, Lockwood and his henchman jumped into the helicopter. She leveled her weapon at the front windshield of the bird and opened fire.

It rose and turned, and Lockwood was gone.

She exhausted her clip in vain.


	10. Chapter 10

Castle found her trembling with rage at the front of the courthouse, her chest rising and falling too quickly, her weapon carefully down at her side. The NYPD and first responders were milling about; Beckett was stony-faced and referring all the detective's questions to Shaw at the FBI.

NYPD wanted to take her in, somewhere, question her more extensively, but they finally got Shaw on the line and were countermanded. Then the Captain came down and ran interference with IAB, who'd been mistakenly called (or purposefully, who knew).

Castle fielded a phone call from Ryan, then got the latest information on the cases they'd pulled out of the Records room. Ryan arranged to stop by the loft later and have a war meeting, even though Rick explained they'd be taking his daughter to college and it might be late.

Well, he would be. He wasn't so sure about Kate now.

Castle ended up sitting at the bottom of the stairs, waiting on her to finish up. Montgomery gave him a nod when he came through, walking with a guy from IAB, Capshaw, and then a local FBI agent showed up and began conferring with the two of them.

It was a mess. A huge snafu. Castle checked his watch again, lifted his eyes in time to see Beckett arguing with her former Captain now, her finger pointing towards the now-vanished helicopter. He ducked his head and tried not to let his disappointment show.

He called Alexis.

"Dad! Where are you? It's nearly ten-thirty."

"I know. I'm stuck at the courthouse with Kate. She had. . .a police incident, and now that she's in the Bureau, there's a kind of turf war going on here."

"A police incident?"

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about."

Castle watched the federal agent shake his head at Kate as she argued quietly, her eyes flicking to Rick's every few seconds then darting away. She reached out towards the Captain, as if drawing him into her argument, but even Montgomery looked to be resistant to whatever it was Kate was saying.

He knew Beckett was begging to be let in on the manhunt. Could see it on her face.

"Are you guys going to make it in time?" Alexis asked quietly. He could hear the carefully concealed disappointment.

"I will, for sure," he asserted. "But I don't know about Kate. The NYPD look like they want to hold her here." They might, but in the end, if Kate wanted in on the manhunt, he wasn't sure something like Alexis's going to college was going to stop her. He just didn't want his daughter to know that.

"Dad."

"I know, pumpkin. But it's not like Kate did it on purpose." Even though she might be now.

She sighed over the line. "Ashley will be here in thirty minutes, Dad."

"Okay. All right. I promise I'll be on my way by then, with or without Kate."

"Thanks," she said, but he could still hear the wistfulness in her voice.

"Love you," he said, and after she had echoed him softly, he hung up.

"Castle."

The harsh bite of his name reached him; he glanced up. Beckett was headed his way, her face rigid.

"You finish giving your statement?" she asked.

He nodded, dreading the moment she had to apologize and back out.

"Let's go."

He froze, watched her start to walk away, clearly expecting that he would follow. "Wait. What?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Come on. We're running late."

He trotted to catch up to her, then grabbed her elbow to get her to slow down. "What about all this?"

"They don't need me for this," she said, but he could actually hear how it pained her to say it.

"But Lockwood-"

"Is loose. There's nothing I can do about that right now."

"And you don't want in on the manhunt?" He was more than surprised. He was stunned she wasn't still back there, arguing with the both of them.

"I didn't say that. But I'm not NYPD any more, Castle. They don't want me. I'm a Fed. I don't have jurisdiction, and I'm still on probation."

He hated to admit it, but his heart lightened. She was sour with it, though; he could see it on her face. He was being selfish, wanting her to come with him to drop off his daughter. She needed to be here, chasing after Lockwood-

His heart stuttered. Lockwood was a hired killer, an assassin. Everyone associated with her mother's case was murdered. So even if Kate wanted to be chasing the guy down, he couldn't feel sorry for being grateful that she wouldn't be allowed in on the fun.

"Alexis is going to college," she said. "That's where I'll be if they need me."

"You aren't serious."

She turned back around, glared at him. "Castle."

Gift horse. Right. He hustled up behind her and resisted the impulse to put his hand at her lower back. Probably wouldn't be welcome at right this moment.

But he did have something. "Remember our big idea?"

"What?" she bit out, still irritated.

He tried not to take it personally. "Our big idea for going through old arrest records from Raglan and McCallister-"

"Yeah?" She was suddenly interested, wasn't she?

"Ryan and Esposito are coming over tonight with something they found."

"Castle! Beckett!"

They paused at the doors, turning as one towards the sound of Captain Montgomery's voice. He was jogging their way with a frown on his face.

"Beckett. You still got the boys working your mom's case," he said, without preamble.

Beside him, he felt Beckett stiffen. "Sir."

"Beckett," he said, shaking his head. "You know you got no right to do that."

Castle gave Kate a cautious look, wondering what this was about. "Roy, how's the precinct?" He tried to diffuse the tension with a charming smile.

"Going good, Castle. It'd be better if you two didn't have my best detectives out scouring Archives instead of doing their jobs. Beckett, you are not an NYPD detective any longer. You want to investigate your mom's case, that's fine. Do it on your own time. Your federal time-"

"Are you upset with me?" Beckett growled. "I wasn't the one who set me up and got me fired. He was. Whoever he is, which I still don't even know. So excuse me for wanting to find the bastard who did this-"

"Beckett," the Captain's voice was a warning. And even though she didn't answer to him anymore, it seemed she was still under his spell. Beckett backed off.

Castle thought maybe he should memorize that tone for future use. Right?

"Sir. I just needed a couple of favors. That's all."

"You tell me it won't happen again, Beckett, and I won't believe you. Just keep in mind that those are my detectives, and they have work to do." Captain eyed her for a long moment, then turned to Castle.

"I know her excuse, Castle. What's yours? You think now that Lockwood's escaped, this has gotten easier? You think these guys are gonna be content with getting your partner fired? Because they won't. You two keep pushing at this, it's gonna go off in your face."

With that, Montgomery pushed past them, pulling out his cell phone and cutting off further conversation.

Castle turned wide eyes to Kate, saw the twitch in her jaw that betrayed her emotion.

"Kate."

"Not now. I can't-" She shook her head and pivoted back towards the doors, escaping.

What was *that* about?

And was it true that Lockwood might come for Kate?

* * *

><p>She didn't want to be here, but she did. How was that for simple? Nothing was simple in her life anymore, not even this.<p>

Kate Beckett dropped another box off at the trunk of Castle's car, then headed back for more. Alexis was grunting as she shoved an overloaded laundry hamper into the backseat, but she called out a thank you as Kate left.

She turned. "No problem, Alexis. One more load, I think."

"Oh no," Alexis moaned, resting her forehead against the frame of the car. "I don't know how I'm going to fit it all in here."

Kate met Castle at the elevator where he'd come down to the parking garage with the last of it. "This is it?" she asked, reaching into the elevator for a duffle bag and a shopping bag filled with hangers.

"Yeah. Thank goodness. Jeez, she ransacked her room."

But Kate could see the vulnerable darkness in his eyes, so she reached up and tugged on his ear. "Cheer up, Castle. We have the place to ourselves tonight."

He did grin at that, but then it fell off his face. "But Esposito and Ryan are coming over."

"And after that-?" She stepped closer, shifting her weight so that the duffle bag didn't swing from her shoulder and hit him. His body was tense, expectant. She swiped her lips along his jaw and blew into his ear, making him jump. "After that, it's just you and me."

He blinked and cleared his throat, but all that came out was a grunt.

"So get packing," she added.

Castle nodded and leaned over to scoop up the last of the elevator's load, then led her back to the car.

She itched to be somewhere else. Leading the task force dedicated to hunting down Hal Lockwood. She needed it; she wanted his smirking face under the crosshairs of her weapon, wanted him to drop to his knees in defeat, confess it all.

He wouldn't come quietly though. She knew that in her gut. Lockwood was not going back to prison; he'd had a mission from the beginning and had bided his time in solitary until the Dragon had managed to get Kate kicked off the force. Once phase one was complete, phase two had been set into motion: eliminate everyone connected to her mother's case.

And she knew, just as the Captain knew and maybe Castle suspected, that Kate Beckett was on that list.

Her heart pounded just thinking about it. Raglan and McCallister were two cops who'd been part of a dirty scheme to stick it to the mobsters in this city while collecting a hefty payroll. Only they'd killed an undercover FBI agent (which is how Kate had gotten Shaw's official approval to keep investigating her mother's murder). The guy framed for the killing had needed Johanna Beckett's legal help, but her mother had discovered the truth, had been silenced for it. She and her associates.

It all began there, for Kate at least, but that wasn't where it began for the Dragon. She had stuck her nose into something big; she knew it, but she didn't know how to bring it down. She didn't even know the extent of the thing, how it big it really was, only the people it had hurt.

And the Captain was riding her ass about using Esposito and Ryan to chase down leads. She'd have to talk with them about being a little more discreet, maybe not let the Captain in on everything from now on. What the hell was his problem?

The archived arrest records. That could be a waste of time or it could lead to a major crack in the case. The Chief of Police had been blackmailed, then threatened with the killing of his regular prostitute the same week Beckett had been tossed from the NYPD. Chief had been set up cleverly to make it seem like he'd been the one behind so much of that, but they'd at least discovered the smokescreen.

Didn't mean they were any closer to discovering the identity of the Dragon, but she could sense that they were at a tipping point. The arrest records-

Alexis squealed, jerking Kate from her circling thoughts.

"Oh my word, it's all in!" Alexis slammed the car door and jumped back, as if she expected it to burst at the seams anyway.

Kate tried on a smile, found it slipped on easily enough but wouldn't stay in place. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Ashley? Where is he?"

Kate glanced to Castle.

"Out front, waiting in his car; he'll follow us."

"Oh. No, Dad, I'm riding with him-" Alexis frowned at her father and moved forward to kiss his cheek. "Besides, there's no room for me. I packed it pretty full."

Kate glanced past Alexis's shoulder and saw the girl was right. The backseat was stuffed. She fought the smile that threatened, knowing that Castle would definitely not appreciate the humor, and schooled her features.

"Oh," Castle was saying. "I thought. . .um, okay. Well, meet you two out front."

Alexis grinned and flung her arms around her father's neck. "I'm so excited."

"I'm not," he sighed. Kate slapped his ribs and he huffed. "I'm excited too!" His fake cheer was a mite ridiculous.

Alexis laughed. "That's okay. I know you don't want to see me go. But you've got Kate!"

Kate frowned, not sure she liked being Castle's next entertainment. "Not yet, he doesn't."

Alexis giggled and shot her father a look. "Okay, almost. Don't ruin it, Daddy, by pouting now."

"Don't call me Daddy right before you run off to be with your boyfriend at college. That makes my heart hurt," Castle whined, giving her an unbelievably sad face. "I'm reminded of that three year old who came running to me when the boys pushed her into the dirt under the slide, her big blue eyes swimming in tears-"

"You are so maudlin." Kate rolled her eyes. "Okay, let's get this show on the road. And Castle, if you mope the whole drive, I'm gonna have to kick your ass."

Alexis laughed and patted her father's cheek. "Hear that?" She slid out of Castle's grip and headed for Kate next, throwing both arms around her and squeezing. Kate, surprised, hugged back. "Thanks, Kate. I'm so glad you're coming. Keep him in line."

She stepped back and gave that dazzling, too-cheery grin that always fooled Kate into thinking that the girl didn't have a care in the world. But recently, Kate had discovered how untrue that was, how the young woman had managed to create an effective barrier of happiness between herself and the world.

Honestly, though their defense mechanisms manifested differently, she and Alexis had more in common than Kate had ever thought. Alexis might look unscathed, but she worked hard to not let it touch her: her father's fame, her mother's abandonment, the betrayal from girls she thought were her friends.

Lockwood. Kate swallowed hard. She hoped, fervently hoped, that Lockwood came nowhere near this young woman.

What was she doing, risking Castle when he had this beautiful daughter who had already been left by her mother? How could Kate even ask him to follow her down this dark road when the only thing she was certain of was that death waited at the end?

For Lockwood. Or for her.


	11. Chapter 11

_What if I let her down?_

He didn't know which woman in his life he was most afraid of disappointing, but the woman in front of him. . .

Kate Beckett pushed the hair back out of her eyes and regarded the piled up files spread out in front of them. Drowning. They were all drowning in it.

Rick Castle had left his daughter at college today. He had unpacked her things, slowly, one box at a time, one suitcase at a time, while Kate had stayed in the room with Alexis, helping her arrange things.

At one point, he'd come in with Ashley on his heels to find Kate and Alexis slung into the low furniture in the common space of her suite, two other girls mixed in, her suitemates. All of them talking, laughing, Kate sharing stories about her time at NYU.

Ashley had nearly run into the back of him, and Castle had started moving forward again, a little choked up, a little more subdued.

Who was he kidding? He was going to marry Kate Beckett? Right. Kate Beckett, this amazing, beautiful woman barely out of her twenties who felt right at home on ratty college dorm furniture, who had just been put through a punishing training camp for federal agents-

This was the woman who had agreed to marry him.

It was insane.

It was too good to be true.

He had driven them home; it'd been silent in the car. He brooded over losing his daughter, he mourned the three-year old with bright copper hair and a smile that stretched across her whole little face. He tried to ignore the dull ache of separation and the bitter taste of resignation.

Because really, how long could it last? Castle and Kate. How long before he'd done something stupid again and screwed it all up?

Oh God, he didn't want to disappoint her. He had to - *had to* - help her unravel the conspiracy surrounding her mother's death. He'd been the one to open it all back up again; he'd gone grave-digging, disrespectfully and without her permission, digging up her mother's death, overturning fresh earth, exposing the rotting bones.

So he sat in his study on the couch beside Esposito, Kate across from him, Ryan in the chair, and he sifted through old case reports spread across the table. The guys had just arrived with pizza, Castle had provided the beer, but Kate had only picked at her slice.

So now they were presenting all the evidence to Beckett, showing their five months of hard work.

Because he didn't know what else to do to keep her.

"Okay, just got the email transcript from the prison-" Ryan fiddled with his phone and sat up in the chair. "I went through the weekly phone long. Lockwood made one phone call every week, an hour after you showed up-"

"After *I* showed up?" Kate hissed.

Ryan nodded. "Every time. Collect call. Charges denied. But as soon as Javier here shows up, he makes that same call, and the charges are accepted."

Kate frowned. "We trace the - I mean, did you guys trace the call?"

"Course," Esposito huffed. "Burner phone."

"Damn. What-"

"Here," Ryan pulled something up on his phone, tapped the screen, and held it out to them. "Listen."

From the recording, Castle could make out the white noise of a public prison phone.

Lockwood said: "How's the family?"

The voice on the other end replied, "Same. How's Charlie and Mike?"

Lockwood: "Good."

Ryan cut it off; Esposito whistled. "That's code."

"Code for what?" Castle asked, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

"Charlie, Mike. What the military uses over radio. Phonetic alphabet. You know, like Bravo Company, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot-"

Castle grinned. "I love that album."

"What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. Code?"

"C.M. Continue Mission."

And then, it hit him. In a wave. Just like his inspiration always hit him, only this time, it brought a sickening clarity with it that he wanted to give back.

"It wasn't McCallister," he groaned, dropping his head back.

"What do you mean, Castle?" Kate's voice was sharp.

He spoke through his hands covering his face. "It wasn't about McCallister. Just a tool, a vehicle to get him out to that arraignment, to the outside-"

"What are you talking about?" Esposito said.

"Anyone could've been hired to shank a prisoner, months and months ago. Right?" Castle rubbed his hands down his face and sat back up. "Months ago. Why now? Because timing is everything. They needed everything in place to bust Lockwood out of jail now-"

"Oh shit," Kate whispered.

"And now that he's out-" Ryan shifted in his seat.

"Now that he's out," Castle finished. "He'll go after the loose threads. We've already proved that we're getting too close to the Dragon. Now he's gotta clean house."

"Me."

Castle glanced up at her, his mouth going dry.

Esposito was shaking his head. "No. Not you. He could've gotten to you in the courthouse."

Ryan saw where it was going too, apparently, and he jumped in. "No, he's after someone else. That third cop. The only one left alive."

"Pulgatti said he saw three guys in that alley," Kate said slowly. "Three guys. McCallister. Raglan. And who?"

"Whoever he is, I bet *he's* on Lockwood's hit list."

It had plagued them for months, not knowing the third cop's identity. Now it seemed vital that they figure it out. Tonight.

"Okay, the old cases that these guys filed. It's our last shot. We'll dig through this, see what pops. Got it?"

Esposito and Ryan both nodded. Castle just stared across the coffee table at her, trying to get a handle on this, while the boys pulled case files their way. They'd already done this. Over and over they'd done this. For five months they'd been digging through case files. And she knew that.

"Kate, can I talk to you for a second?"

She glared at him, but got up. He followed her out his study door and down the hallway, stopping when she did. Her arms were crossed over her chest.

"What's going on, Kate?" He'd seen it on her face, in her eyes. Something bothering her, something that didn't fit.

"Why now, Castle?"

He rubbed two fingers on his thigh, watched the worry blossom across her face. She was letting him see it. That was something. "It takes time and resources to break a guy out of prison. That was effectively a para-military extraction. The two fake cops, the chopper, transferring Lockwood into General Population-"

"But. Why *now*? Why not while I was at Quantico?"

Castle tried to clear his throat, but he knew. He knew she'd come to the same conclusion he had. And he hated it. "They wanted to see. . ."

"To see if I'd still be on this. If I'd given it up or not."

He nodded, felt his chest was too tight to breathe. "And now they know."

"They know I won't stop," she said, her chin jutting out as if he would deny it. "They know they can't knock me down, but I'll get right back up-"

"And now you're on the list," he finished, swallowing hard. "Now you've got to be silenced."

She met his eyes. That was a good sign too, wasn't it? She stared him down, like she was waiting for him to crack, to buckle. Wasn't she? She must know he'd disappoint her, and she figured this would be her first sign of weakness. He didn't blame her.

But he'd prove himself all over again if he had to. "Have you told Shaw what's going on?"

She shook her head. "I'm not. . .authorized to be on this case officially. What I do on my own time. . ." Kate shrugged.

"So no federal help."

"No."

Castle rubbed at the back of his neck. "Suddenly I'm really grateful that I dropped my daughter off at college."

Kate's face blanched. Mistake. That had been a mistake; he'd just reminded Kate of the danger posed to the people she loved, the people standing between her and the crosshairs.

"Castle-"

"No."

"You haven't even heard-"

"I don't need to hear it, because I know what you're going to say. And that's a no, Kate. No matter what happens."

She chewed on her lip and looked away from him. "But Alexis-"

"Is a big girl. Far away."

"Not that far."

"Far enough."

"Does she-"

"I've got private security on her. Always have. I'll call them and explain the situation; they'll tighten it up."

"Oh God, Castle-"

"It's still a no, Kate."

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, closing her eyes. But Castle kept his eyes open, watched her shiver once before she could control herself again. She looked more alone and desperate and brittle than he'd seen her in ages. Since she'd been kicked off the force.

"Don't flinch, Kate." He wrapped his arms around her, held her tighter. "Stare him down. And don't flinch."

She didn't break, but she did suck in a shaky breath. "What if I'm not enough? What if I-"

"Yo! We got a location on the chopper!"

Kate broke away from him, swiped at her face. Castle didn't see tears, but her eyes were glittering. "Kate-"

"Later." She pushed off his chest and met Ryan and Esposito coming out of the study. "Can you guys-?"

"We got it. We'll check out the hangar. Duty officer said the mechanic noticed the bullet holes in it, called us."

"Owner?"

"Hedge fund guy. When we know more details, we'll text you."

"Don't forget to check-"

Esposito gave her a long look as Ryan moved past, grabbing Castle's forearm as he did. "Beckett. I know."

Ryan tugged and Castle followed the man into the living room, concerned.

"What's up?"

Ryan shook his head, took a quick glance down the hall where Beckett and Esposito were still bickering over the details of how to run the case. "She's a target, Castle."

He sighed. "Yeah. We figured-"

"Yeah, but you know who told me?"

Castle froze. "Who. . .told you?"

"Captain Montgomery."

Ice water rushed into his veins. He stared at Ryan. "What?"

"Montgomery told me to tell you to watch her back."

"Did it sound like a threat, Ryan? Cause, to me, that sounds vaguely threatening."

"I don't think he meant it as one, but Castle?" Ryan shot a look down the hall and then back to the writer. "I've been looking through the case notes. Not the stuff in Records, but the stuff in Archives. The Unsolveds."

"The cold cases?"

"Yeah, the *homicides* that weren't solved, specifically. From around that time period as the Pulgatti thing."

Castle was suddenly awed by Ryan's detective skills. This was something Kate probably would've considered, if she'd been here these last five months. But Ryan had done it on his own. "And?"

"You know, mostly it's just detectives listed on those reports."

"Ryan, we don't have time-"

Ryan looked peeved, but he shifted on his feet and continued. "Mostly it's the detectives, but if the uniforms were hanging around, helping out, they'd get their names written down in the lead detective's notes."

"Who?" Castle breathed, because he knew, he *knew* that Ryan had found their third man.

"There's two names that circle around with Raglan and McCallister. Just two. Napolitano."

Castle arched his eyebrow and felt his pulse rate quicken.

"But it can't be him. He was at his daughter's wedding the night Armen was shot. I checked, triple-checked. So that leaves us with one other name." Ryan swallowed and winced as he heard Beckett's passionate argument with Esposito just down the hallway.

Castle knew he should wade in there, break it up. It'd been a long day, a long five months, and before that, a long two weeks. But Ryan was practically sweating bullets, he was so uncomfortable with his knowledge.

"Spit it out, Ryan."

"It's Montgomery."

Castle had to use the wall to keep himself up, stared at Ryan. The detective hustled to the side to block the sight from Esposito and Beckett. "Castle. So help me. . .if you spill the beans-"

"I won't. I'm good."

"You look like hell," Ryan hissed. "Stand up."

Castle stood. "You can't be serious. The Captain?"

"I checked. Shit, I checked. Castle, Esposito is going to punch me in the face if I mention this. And Beckett?"

"She'll collapse," Castle said, horror washing over him. "You've got to be wrong about this. It can't be-"

"Listen to me. I got confirmation. I found the seargeant who ran the records room until his retirement. Mike Yanavich. Owns a bar on Fulton."

Castle covered his mouth with a hand, afraid something terrible was going to slip out. Roy? Kate's mentor in Homicide?

"I went to the bar. I'm thinking, how can a retired cop afford a bar in New York City? I mean, *you* own a bar, right?"

He nodded lamely and watched Ryan's excited, sickened face. "So I went. I see Yanavich; we chat about the good old days for awhile. Jabbering on, right? He's trying to keep himself looking clean in all this, says the records room wasn't like it is now-"

"He looked the other way. He let them cover up evidence, disappear reports-"

"He did. That's my gut feeling on it. Anyway, I asked him, hey, who hung around with Raglan and McCallister, who was the Third Musketeer?"

Castle's eyes drifted over Ryan's shoulder to see Beckett and Esposito with their voices lowered, intent on something. They had to go, Esposito seemed to be saying, let him do his job.

Ryan tossed a look behind him and talked faster. "He told me it was a rookie, a black kid who thought those two hung the moon. Bad-asses all. He pulled this down from the back of the bar."

Castle managed to focus on Ryan again, the faded photograph in his hand. It was unmistakably Raglan, McCallister, and Roy Montgomery.

"Oh God, this is going to kill her."

Castle snatched the photo, brought it closer. At that moment, Esposito came barreling into the living room, calling for Ryan over his shoulder. Kate was furious and brittle-looking in the doorway of the hall.

Ryan reached for the photo but Castle shoved it in his pocket. "I'll do it. I'll tell her. Go."

Ryan gave him a long, dark look, but the two boys left to process the scene where the chopper had been found, leaving Castle alone with Kate.

The photograph seemed to burn his fingers, thrust inside his pocket.

Kate turned her livid eyes on him. "Esposito said. . ." She choked on her own fury and paced, throwing up her hands. "He said that Captain told him to take Lockwood down. If he got the chance. Shoot. Ask questions later."

Of course he did.

"Everyone knows I'm a target," Kate muttered. "I'm a target and I can't even get out there and do anything about it. Captain wanted to put a detail on me."

"Esposito pissed?"

"Yeah. I was. . .I should apologize later."

"He'll understand," Castle said, and even as he said it, he knew he was offering banalities to keep from having to show her the thing. The photo. The evidence.

"What is it, Castle?" she barked, turning mid-pace to stare him down.

"What?"

"I can tell by your face that you have bad news. I told you mine. Now it's your turn."

Castle sank back against the wall, watched Kate in all her glorious fury. He was suddenly certain, in a way he'd never been certain before, that this was going to end them. End. It was going to be over.

Not later, not some day in the future. But now. With this case. This was going to break them both.


	12. Chapter 12

She drove.

She hadn't wanted Castle to come; she was afraid of what she might confront when she got there, what she might find. She had the photograph in her lap as she drove and she didn't know what to think, how to think.

Castle remained silent.

It was strange to drive his car; she didn't have a motor-pool car, of course, and she'd never found a reason to own a car in the city. But she drove Castle's because Roy lived on the outskirts, because she had to know the truth; she had to know it now.

It couldn't be true.

Kate unwillingly glanced down to the aged photograph, the smiling, younger Montgomery in his uniform blues, having a beer with Raglan, McCallister's arm slung around the rookie's shoulders.

It wasn't fair. Montgomery had trained her, had been the one to get her partnered with Royce and given her all the right nudges. When Vice had put her on the street as bait for johns (the fate of every good-looking cop assigned to Vice), he'd been that sympathetic ear and pulled all the right strings to get her out of there quickly. He'd coached her through the detective's exam; he'd invited her over to his family's holiday meals. His wife had always made her feel welcome, his girls had drawn her pictures for her locker.

And then this?

No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.

But now there was no more time left to think; she'd pulled up in front of his house and Castle was sitting in the passenger seat, waiting on her. Just like he'd promised he would.

She wanted to confront the Captain alone. This was between them; this was her mother, for goodness sake. What had he done?

Kate squeezed her hands on the wheel and finally managed to release it, scooping up the photograph in her lap.

"I'll be. . .I don't know how long this -" She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

"I'll be right here, Kate."

She heard the tenderness in his voice and thought it might unman her. Too many things going on, too much. All of it. Kate opened her eyes and tried to level an honest look at him, but he was staring out of the window, morose. She used her free hand to capture the chain around her neck, squeezed a fist around the two rings. The promises made in them.

"Castle," she grit out, watched his head swivel towards her.

Kate leaned in and captured his mouth, that full mouth, letting go of those rings to run her thumb over his cheekbone as she kept him close. Castle tangled his fingers in her hair, tried to pull her into him, but she broke from his lips to lean back.

"This might be awhile. But I'm going to find out the truth."

* * *

><p>She knew it the moment Roy Montgomery opened the door with his weapon drawn, as if he were expecting someone else.<p>

Or maybe he *was* expecting her.

"Put the gun away, Captain," she said firmly, watching his hand and not his eyes.

He made a startled noise in his throat and she took her eyes off the weapon long enough to see his face. Their gazes locked, and she knew. She knew. And he did too. Maybe he'd been expecting it for far, far longer.

"I can't go to jail for this, Kate. I can't put my family through that."

Not Detective, not Beckett. Kate.

Her chest was too tight, her hands in fists at her side. She lifted her arm and casually reached for her own weapon, slowly. But she had one question burning a hole in her throat like acid; she couldn't swallow around it, couldn't breathe.

"Why?" Her voice broke; she tried again. "Why did you - my *mother*?"

"No." Roy shook his head at her, took a glance out the door, down the street. Just who had he expected? She waited on his front stoop, righteous indignation building with every breath.

"She was my mother, Roy." _And it broke me_.

"No. Not - that wasn't me. I swear-"

"But you know who. You. Know. Who."

"It wasn't me, but it was a direct result of what we did that night."

"That night," she repeated hollowly. "What you did that night."

"The gun went off, Kate. It wasn't supposed to go down like that. McCallister and Raglan were heroes to me. I believed in what we were doing. We were just going to snatch Pulgatti. Bob Armen wasn't even supposed to be there. Armen reached for my gun. That's when I heard the shot. I didn't even know it was my gun that went off until Armen went down. Then McCallister pulled me into the van. They laughed it off, but I. . .McCallister and Raglan tried to drown it. But not me."

"Not you? Not you. You've been leading me around by the nose since I came to the 12th. Even today, even at the courthouse, you were trying to make me go away."

"I put it all into the job, Kate. I became the best cop I could be. I didn't know how else to make it right. And then you walked into the 12th. I felt the hand of God. I knew he was giving me another chance, and I thought, if I could protect you the way I should've protected her. . ."

Kate clenched her weapon at her side, watched Roy spill his guts, the light of a holy calling in his eyes. He was just as bad. Just as rotten and self-deceiving-

No. Because he was right; he had guided her, protected her. But just as easily, he had led her astray. This whole time, he had been playing both sides. And he *hadn't* protected her mother.

"If you had done your job in the beginning-"

"My sins are scarlet. This is a war, Beckett, and there are no victories. I've spent long enough walking behind this badge to know that no one is clean, no one is pure. I should've taken a stand; I picked the wrong battle to sit out. But I tried to atone. You were my redemption."

"What the hell good is that to me? You've been pushing me away from the truth this whole time. Nudging me away. But you have to tell me now. You have to. I deserve to know. Who killed my mother?"

Roy looked away from her. "I don't know how, but somehow he figured out what we had done. He could have turned us all in. Instead, he demanded the ransom money. He took that money to become what he is and, God forgive me, but that may be my greatest sin. Beckett, you've got no victory here, no way of making it right, not now. But if you take a stand against them. . .damn it, I will take my stand with you. I will do it now."

How was it that she could so easily forgive him? She had't forgiven Castle this easily when he'd gone behind her back, but Roy - Roy was family. Had been her father figure at the 12th since she was in uniform. She wanted, so badly, for his redemption.

"Just tell me, Roy. Give me a name. Give me a name and we can end this."

"No, kid. I give you a name, I know you, you'll run straight at it. I might as well shoot you where you stand."

"Or," a voice drawled from behind her. "I could just do the job myself. How about that, old friend?"

* * *

><p>Castle leaned his forehead against the tinted window of his car and watched her talking to Captain Montgomery.<p>

The shit was hitting the fan. Right now.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Ryan, warning him what Beckett was doing and suggesting that he break the news to Esposito. Castle sat with his phone in his hands and waited, his breath caught somewhere, like his lungs had hitched on his ribs.

Ryan texted back.

_Hell no. You took the photo. I don't have any evidence._

Castle responded.

_You tell him Kate believes it. Kate's at Montgomery's right now, demanding answers._

Ryan didn't text back immediately, so Castle took it as a sign of silent protest that would eventually lead to capitulation. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Roy Montgomery had been the third cop. Montgomery had been the one burying evidence all this time, keeping Kate as far from the truth as he could. No wonder the Captain had been so keen on kicking him out two summers ago, when he'd found evidence of a conspiracy, evidence of more victims. It wasn't a father figure protecting his precocious star detective. It was a man hiding his crimes.

What would Kate do now? Now that-

"Out of the car. Nice and slow, Mr. Castle."

He jerked his eyes open to find Lockwood at the other end of a nasty looking piece of equipment, a weapon Castle had no name for, but knew it would blow a hole the size of a football through his head. Right through the glass like it was nothing, barely slowing down.

Even so, for half a heartbeat, he debated refusing. He even thought about slamming open the car door straight into the barrel.

But then Lockwood tapped on the window and backed away, jerking his head. "Glass ain't bulletproof, sidekick. Out. Now."

Castle swallowed hard and slowly opened the passenger door, putting his feet down one at a time, making sure Lockwood could see his hands.

Well, if the Captain's guilt wasn't a sure thing before, it was now.

"Move it." Lockwood jabbed the barrel of the gun into Castle's kidney; the flash of pain cramped his side and made him hunch forward, but he walked. He moved.

He headed towards the house with his heart like lead in his chest, sinking, watching the back of Kate's beautiful head, her hair highlighted by the sun. She had her weapon drawn, as did Roy, but she wasn't paying attention. She was furious and passionate as she yelled at Montgomery, and the man was broken before her.

Draw their attention. Castle scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk, got a nasty blow on the back of his head from Lockwood for his trouble. His ears rang. And Kate still didn't turn, didn't notice. Montgomery was staring at Kate as if desperate for salvation.

"I might as well shoot you where you stand," he finished.

Behind him, Castle could hear Lockwood chuckle. "Or. I could just do the job myself. How about it, old friend?"

Castle winced as the weapon came up under his ear, heard the snick of the gun readying. The chamber loaded. Or the safety off. He couldn't tell, but he knew the sound was for effect.

For Beckett.

She stiffened, eased her head around slowly, no sudden movements, until her eyes met his.

Desolation poured through those dark depths.

He tried to apologize, tried to tell her not to worry, but she was already hardening her face and turning to look at Lockwood.

"You come here to turn yourself in?" she asked, as calm and cool and deadly as he'd ever heard her.

Castle eased slightly towards his left, hoping for just a millimeter more room, a space to make a move, but Lockwood tightened his grip on Castle's neck and jerked him back. "Ah-ah. Stay with me, pretty boy. You two? Weapons down. On the ground, kick them here."

"Don't you dare-" Castle started, only to have his knees buckle under the sudden pressure at his neck, crippling.

But Kate didn't drop her weapon, neither did the Captain. They both drew into a firing stance when Castle lurched, and Lockwood stepped behind his hostage, too close, his mouth right at Castle's ear.

"Not-uh. No games. Drop it, or I blow his brains out and then use his lifeless body as a shield as I take you both down."

Castle saw the deliberation on Kate's face, the way her arm sagged just a little. He willed her not to do it, willed her to shoot the bastard.

Kate lowered her weapon, Montgomery following suit. Neither of them dropped it entirely.

"You don't drop those guns right now, Kate, and you're gonna get your boyfriend's grey matter blown all over your pretty face."

Castle saw Kate's eyes dart to his and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Do it. Do it, Kate.

Montgomery side-stepped Kate and brought his hands up, gun in his right and pointed towards the sky, his body blocking hers. Castle's heard thudded in his chest.

"You came for me. You can leave with me."

"No-" came the strangled cry from Kate behind him. She jostled the Captain in an effort to move him.

"All right," Lockwood said with a sneer. "No skin off my nose." The assassin drew his gun away from Castle and aimed, pointblank, for Montgomery's chest.

He fired.

The Captain's body jerked like a puppet on a string, folded in on itself as it collapsed.

But Castle and Kate both moved as well.

Lockwood swung his gun immediately to Beckett even as she brought her gun up to fire; Castle shoved into Lockwood's side with the force of his whole body, causing the killer to spin, the gun to discharge harmlessly into the side of the house.

But Lockwood had his balance back the next instant, pivoted, and brought his weapon in close, not aiming so much as reacting, and fired.

Castle felt it the moment before he heard the sound, felt the hot shredding of his flesh and heard Kate's growling, murderous yell. Another bullet. Two more. From who, to where, he couldn't understand. He stumbled, tried to hold on to Lockwood, to at least be a dead weight against the man's gun hand even as his body stopped listening to his commands.

He twisted against Lockwood, but Kate's weapon had already found its target. Lockwood spasmed against Castle, toppled, both of them going down in a heap.

He hit the sidewalk, the side of Lockwood's knee, rolled off in a rictus of agony even as darkness swelled up inside of him, evil and black and hungry.

"Castle! God, Castle - Captain-"

He was swallowed.


	13. Chapter 13

Kate Beckett stretched between the two men, each hand slicked with someone's blood, panic clawing up her throat. She had eyes only for Castle, kept leaning towards him only to be jerked back by the wet warmth seeping under her other hand from Montgomery's surely fatal wounds.

She had to make a choice. She'd already called for paramedics, but she'd have to take a hand off of one of them, unplug her finger from the dam in order to truly be of any use to the other. She couldn't ride the fence; she had to choose to save one of them.

"Castle, Castle, God-"

She begged him to wake up. If he came back, came back, opened his eyes, she could maybe get him to hold his jacket to the seeping flesh-

Tears streaked down her face; she whipped her head back to the Captain, whose dark face was ashy with blood loss, lips a necrotizing grey, his chest seeping from too many holes-

She had to choose. She had to do it now.

Castle was crumpled on one side, his face towards her, close to her hip, blood warm and thick under her hand just below his collarbone. No matter how she pressed, where, it wasn't enough; it kept bleeding out, spilling over fingers, running to the sidewalk.

Where were the damn paramedics?

"Castle-"

She had to choose. She had to choose.

Kate Beckett sobbed and released her hand, flung herself at the man on the ground before her, pressed both hands to his wound, putting the weight of her body behind it, her tears dripping to his shirt and getting lost in the upwelling of blood.

Castle.

Montgomery bled out behind her.

* * *

><p><em>DOA. DOA. DOA.<em>

The paramedics radio call had gotten stuck in her her brain like an obscene mantra; Beckett sat huddled in the ambulance, cradling Castle's left hand with both of hers, shivering as the medic cut the shirt off of him, inserted an IV line.

The sirens screamed overhead; she felt each jolt as it raced towards the hospital, her knees bouncing up and down in waves of adrenaline-induced withdrawal.

He still bled. He soaked whole squares of bright white gauze with the dark stain of blood. The paramedic just replaced them.

Beckett brought his fingertips to her lips and closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the yellow-grey of his face, the deep crimson of her own hands.

She couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't breathe.

Montgomery-

The rattle and lurch of the bus docking in the emergency bay jerked her eyes open; the doors popped wide and she was being pushed aside, out, as the gurney dropped its wheels for a landing on the cracked pavement below.

Beckett ran at its side, her hands clenched in fists at her gut, trying to force her diaphragm to contract, to move air into her lungs.

A nurse corralled her just past the doors with a sheaf of papers, a clipboard, and a grip like a vise; Castle disappeared past her, behind a swinging door where she could not go.

"I'm a detec-" She swallowed hard as tears overwhelmed her eyes again. "FBI agent. He's my partner. Please, I-"

"The one thing that you can do to help him right now is fill out this patient information. What is he allergic to - any medications, sedatives, antibiotics? - and then his family, where are they? anyone we can call-"

Beckett sagged and the woman caught her, expertly, as if she was an old hand at keeping people like Kate upright. Martha. Alexis, oh God, the girl had just been dropped off at college-

Kate was pushed back, back, down into a chair with a split in the seat's plastic, sharp against her thigh.

"I'm Wendy. Let's make a deal, ma'am. I'll keep you up to date about what's going on in there. You sit here and fill this out."

Beckett accepted the forms with a shaking hand, her eyes traveling to finally meet Wendy's. "Please. He's my-"

_Mine. He's mine. Please._

"They are very good here."

She had chosen. She had made her choice. And Montgomery was dead.

Beckett filled out forms, but every last answer was smeared with her tears.

* * *

><p>Castle came around sometime in the middle of it, the invasion of instruments at his chest, shoulder, right below his collarbone. He grunted, his mouth like cotton, heard the beeping of monitors and the drone of a surgeon, the too-white light in his eyes, and then the slow burn in his veins as a medicated darkness ripped his insides out.<p>

* * *

><p>There was a warmth on his thigh, his stomach; his left hand buried under it as well, silky. The rest of his body was chilled, goose bumps traveling up and down his skin on their marching orders. His right hand was numb.<p>

"Kate."

Her head jerked up from its place at his hip and she stood, her eyes tremulous and too dark.

"Rick." But her voice cracked and the lines around her eyes were permanent now.

"Ah. . ." He blinked and tried to focus, tried to keep his eyes on her.

Kate leaned in and brushed her lips across his forehead, close enough to feel her warmth radiating out along his skin. Castle went to touch her and gasped, pain cascading along his right side.

"Don't try to move, Castle. They dug the bullet out of you, put your arm in a sling across your chest to keep it immobilized."

"What?" he rasped and was rewarded for his stillness by the slow fading lights of agony. Drugs. He was on drugs, and soon they had stolen even the memory of the pain.

"Lockwood shot you. Do you remember?"

He grunted again, unable to make his tongue move, and rolled his head towards hers. "Cold."

"You're cold?"

"Mm."

Beckett glanced over her shoulder - for what? - and draped herself along his left side, nuzzling his neck with her nose, lips, whispering things to him he couldn't quite understand. Heaviness weighed him down.

"Ka. . .Kate," he tried again, managed to twitch a finger at her hip. "Stay."

"I'm here. I won't leave."

His mouth wasn't saying the words he wanted it to say; his mouth had mutinied. He groaned and tried to organize his thoughts, some semblance of order to the jumbled mess of memory, sensation, and weight.

"S-s-stay."

"I am. I am, I promise." She was cradling his face in her hands, kissing his bottom lip, the fall of his lashes, the side of his nose.

"Up. With me."

He managed to smooth his palm along the small space beside his thigh, fighting to keep track of her face with his eyes. He'd beg her, if he could make his mouth work, talk through the cotton in his head. He'd watched Lockwood point a gun at her, *again*, and he needed her close.

Kate hesitated, glanced behind her again, then slid a knee up onto the bed, crouching over him to kiss his eyelids, the soft spot under his jaw, before she laid down beside him, close, too close; his body knew it hurt somewhere, out there, a phantom of pain, but he was cold and drowning, going under.

"Stay," he sighed and curled his unencumbered arm up around her neck and turned to press his face into her skin and sighed. It was a long sigh and it went on and on until all the breath was gone, pushed right out, the weight of bullets and hired killers and anesthesia pushing everything out.

* * *

><p>He was sitting up with Ryan and Esposito on either side when Kate came back. Castle watched the haunted look in her eyes clear just a bit when she caught sight of him; she sat down on the foot of his bed and shook her head.<p>

He sighed. "Good. I don't want either of them to know. Not right now." Kate had insisted on calling his mother, but apparently she'd not answered her phone. He was glad for it. Martha would, in all likelihood, call Alexis, and Castle did not want Alexis to know.

Alexis had promised to call tonight; he had two hours before that scheduled conversation. Kate had his phone on her and she would try to arrange it with the nurse for Castle to be wheeled outside to take the call. Alexis couldn't know. She absolutely could not.

Ryan took up the rest of his informal report with a glance to his partner. "We went through the house. While you talked to Mary." Montgomery's wife. "We found two things. A wall safe behind the desk, and a key." Ryan fished it out of his pocket and handed it to Kate.

She examined it closely. "Safety deposit box, looks like."

Ryan nodded. "What do we do about the safe?"

Castle glanced to Kate; he'd had a few minutes to think about this. "I know someone who could crack it, easily."

Kate's face blanched, but she nodded slowly. "Might be for the best. Listen. This. . ."

For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words, her face that peculiar blankness that spoke of a grief she had no handle on, no ability to contain. And then her eyes were hard again, and her voice didn't crack. "This doesn't go outside our family. No one else can know about Captain Montgomery. As far as anyone else knows, he died a hero, saving our lives. Mine and Castle's."

"He did," Castle insisted, keeping his eyes on Kate's, intense. "He did."

She nodded. "We have to be careful to keep this out of the station, all of it. We investigate this on our own. And guys. . .we go where it leads, but we have to be smart."

"The guys who jailbroke Lockwood. Where are they now?" Esposito said, leaning forward on his knees. "Because it seems to me that Lockwood was coming to clean up Montgomery, make a deal, something. So the other guys? Where are they? Who are they after?"

Castle felt a shiver crawl down his spine. "Kate." Because he knew what that meant; she wasn't safe, even still. Even with Lockwood dead.

"We need to revisit the breakout - who was bought off to send Lockwood back to the general population. And we need to pursue the hangar, the chopper. Dig into the owner's financials, whoever else had access-"

Ryan shook his head. "Owner was on vacation with his family. We dug, nothing. Already have a list of those with access to the private hangar and are running it down. Did that while Castle was out."

Castle appreciated the irreverence, if only because it set Kate at ease again. But now Esposito and Ryan were standing up, filing out. Beckett followed them, talking about the safe, about getting in touch with Castle's guy.

He spoke up before they could leave. "The guy. Kate. You remember him?"

Her face cleared as she turned back to him, understanding coming into her eyes. "Oh."

"You can scroll through my contacts, call him yourself; he liked you."

Kate pulled his phone out of her pocket, but in an instant, they all saw that it wasn't Castle's phone. It was her own. The phone Castle had kept waiting for her at his own apartment; the phone she'd taken with her to Montgomery's; the phone now stained with lurid smears of blood.

Castle's heart tripped at the look on her face. Her eyes were fastened on the phone, the color had left her face, her hands started to shake. "Ca-Castle."

"Kate."

Esposito nudged her back towards the bed and Castle cursed his restrictions once again, wishing he could open his arms to her, needing it. Kate stumbled closer, her phone clutched to her chest, and Esposito and Ryan slid out the door to give them privacy.

"Katie," he whispered, his heart breaking for her, for doing this to her. She came to rest at the side of his bed, trembling.

"Oh, God, Rick-" She inched her way forward, her face twisted as she fiercely kept from crying, then buried her head against his undamaged shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" he murmured.

"I had to. . .I left him there to bleed. But you were - what else could I do? I turned my back on him, but it was you, and Castle-"

"I'm so sorry, Kate." He used all the strength left in his body to squeeze her shoulders, feeling the hard edges of her phone between them.

"It never ends, Castle," she groaned. "I'm cursed. We're never going to make it to the 27th."

His heart stopped for a moment; he squeezed her tighter. "Don't say that. You don't believe that."

She was silent for a long time and then she sat up, pulling out his half-embrace, her eyes bright with the tears she wouldn't let fall, her face like a stone. "Maybe we should-"

"No." He half-rose, trying to get to her, fell back as the movement rocketed pain down his chest to his hipbones. "No. Damn it. Don't you do that to me, Kate Beckett."

She looked away from him. "But I - it's too dangerous. It's putting you, Alexis, everyone in harm's way."

"So are you. You're there. So that's where I am too." He ignored that about Alexis; he had to believe that the security he'd hired was good, above reproach, because they protected ambassador's kids in foreign countries and they hunted down kidnappers in Mexico City. Alexis would be fine. And as long as he had Kate, Castle would be fine as well.

"I've got to see this through; I've got to find the bastards that did this, Castle. If I don't, they'll keep coming after me, after *you*, after everyone I love. I can't watch anyone else die. I can't."

"All I'm asking you for, Kate, is a few hours on the 27th. Just a few hours. Please." He held his breath, snaked his hand along the bed to capture hers, crushing her phone between their palms.

She raised her eyes to meet his. "I - I don't know that I can promise that, Castle."

"Promise anyway."

"I've got to follow this wherever it takes me-"

"I'm following with you. I'm not going anywhere."

"Castle, you're in the hospital."

"But I'm good. I'll be fine. Just have them prescribe me some pain meds and I'm good to go."

She shook her head at him, but she didn't dismiss him this time. "It might not work-"

"Kate, please." God, he'd beg her if he had to. "You said. You said set a date and you'd show up."

Her eyes wouldn't meet his. She sat stiffly on the bed, watching the door to the step-down unit swing open, then closed.

"You promised." Cold fury rose in him, bitter and tasting of ashes, that day in the city out on the sidewalk in front of Remy's coming back to him. The day she'd panicked and told him she couldn't do this any more, and then she'd changed her mind again and said maybe some day. And then she'd promised, she had promised him, and he'd said, he'd warned her he wouldn't be able to take it if she backed out on him.

If he could just move. If he could just get out of this bed, then he'd show her, he could convince her. He could damn well carry her off to a cave somewhere and *make* her.

She turned her head, her body shifted like she was going to get up, leave the room. Castle lunged forward, reaching for her neck with his hand, fighting through the jagged edge of pain (the anesthesia had worn off hours ago and the pain medicine wasn't that strong). Castle grit his teeth and tugged on her neck, bringing her back, his fingers finding the chain.

She grunted and put her hands out to break her fall, coming nearly on top of him. Castle grasped the chain and tugged, drew it up from under her shirt until the rings were in his palm. He fisted his hand around those two rings, a terrible loneliness and a shocking rage twining through his guts until all he could see were the two round pupils staring back at him.

"Don't do this to me, Kate. These go together. I know it; you know it. These go together." The rings were side by side in his hand, nearly one metal as he squeezed them.

She closed her hand around his larger on, eased her thumb into the hollow made by his fist until his fingers sprang open. She leaned down and kissed his palm, kissed the ring warmed by his desperate lunge.

When her eyes raised to meet his, a widening pit opened up in him, an awful darkness. She shook her head.

"They go together. But this one came first." And she ducked her head with a graceful movement, slipped the chain from around her neck, and left the room.

Castle was left holding the rings. Alone.


	14. Chapter 14

When Alexis called, Kate fumbled with the phone, swiped the tears from her eyes, and tried to answer without sounding too rough. Didn't want to scare the girl.

"Oh. Kate?"

"Yeah," Beckett cleared her throat. "Sorry, Alexis. I - uh, I knew that your Dad was planning on talking with you tonight, but I've got his phone. Can you - can you give me say twenty minutes to get it back to him?"

It wasn't technically lying; it was the strict truth.

"Oh, well, yeah, of course. Why do you have Dad's phone?"

"Well, you know, I didn't have my phone with me at Quantico. And your dad let me borrow his to catch up on things." _And your Dad's in the hospital. Because of me._

Kate heard the questioning silence on Alexis's end but she ignored it.

"Oh, okay. Um. You said twenty minutes?"

"I'll have him call you, is that okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken his phone."

"No, really, that's okay. Have him call me back.. . .Are you. . .sure everything's okay?"

Kate took a long breath, tried to summon up words to put the girl off without actually lying to her.

"Kate. You sound. . .funny."

"I - um -"

"Have you been crying?"

Kate groaned and leaned her head back against the wall outside the step-down unit. She'd walked out on him, but she couldn't go far. She never could.

"Yeah, um, Alexis, I-"

"That's okay. I know this is rough, a new job, not having the precinct. You don't have to explain. Just don't let Dad smother you, okay?" Alexis gave a little laugh.

Kate took a shaky breath and chewed on her lip, thanked God for giving her this escape. "Yeah. Yeah, that's. . .true."

"Just have Dad call me when you get back to him."

"I will."

And Alexis hung up. Kate had twenty minutes, and Castle was right through that door. She'd promised, and she needed to get the wheelchair and get the okay from the unit nurse; she needed to somehow get Castle out of here for a few minutes so he could use his cell phone and pretend to his daughter that nothing was wrong.

She wasn't ready yet, and even though she couldn't find the strength in her to walk away, she also couldn't go back in that room.

* * *

><p>She found Caine Powell's name in Castle's contacts and called from his phone, delaying the moment when she'd have to return to him. The jewel thief and master safecracker answered on the third ring in his gravel-raw voice.<p>

"Ah, Castle."

"Actually. No. It's Beckett. Detective - ah - well, used to be detective - Kate Beckett."

"Ah. The stunningly exquisite Kate Beckett. Yes, well, I certainly hope you aren't looking for me. I heard you've acquired a job with the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"It's not for that, not about that. Castle - Castle was shot, and I needed to get in touch-"

"Hold on, my dear. Shot?"

"There's some things you don't know about, and it might be best if you never knew. But I need you to help me with a. . .reluctant wall safe. Someone died. He took the combination with him. I need what's inside that safe."

She waited through the sudden silence, could feel the minutes slipping by. She glanced at her father's watch and tried not to grow impatient.

"Ah. I see."

"I can send one of my boys over to get you, or have him meet you somewhere-"

"I don't think so. You, and only you, Detective."

Her mouth went dry and she rubbed her forehead. As a federal agent now, this was more than just walking a fine line, this was practically falling right over the side. But this was about more than a job now; this was her life. She needed to chase this down, follow it to the end.

"All right."

"Give me the address. I'll meet you there later tonight?"

She swallowed hard. Was she really going to do this? Have Caine Powell break into Captain Montgomery's safe?

She knew that Mary and the girls were staying with a sister for the next few nights; she knew the house would be deserted, that the woman was still too busy with funeral arrangements to head back home even for a quick stop.

And even if she did stop by to pick up something she'd forgotten, Kate had plausible excuses. Mary would never suspect her of a thing.

Her guts clenched, but she agreed. "All right." And then she gave the thief her Captain's address.

* * *

><p>When the door swung open, an orderly was pushing a wheelchair through; Castle's hopes were dashed. He looked away from the chair and closed his eyes. So Kate had sent someone instead of coming herself. She'd run. And he had no way to run after her. Not tonight anyway.<p>

Alexis must have called by now. He'd have to find some way to explain-

"I told Alexis you'd call her back."

Castle lifted his head and stared at her, Kate, his fingers still clenched around the two rings. Because he hadn't moved an inch in the hours since she'd been gone. Not at all. The rings were pressing lines into his palm.

"Kate."

She didn't look at him, but handed him the phone. "I managed to convince the unit nurse to let you leave to call your daughter. She wasn't happy about it, but you've got thirty minutes out in the main waiting room."

He nodded, still with his eyes on her face, trying to catalog her every line, analyze the break of her downward turned mouth, the shimmer of darkness in her eyes. He didn't have the guts to hold out the chain and try to give it back, just couldn't face that.

The orderly was getting things ready to help maneuver Castle into the chair. He followed the man's instructions, let his weight shift, felt the strong arms around him. He was proud that he didn't sway when he stood, that his knees didn't buckle, but he had a moment's lurching panic when he hovered over the chair and didn't know whether or not he could get down.

But the orderly had him, and the journey down was smooth, if slow. Castle breathed out a sigh of relief and managed to find Kate's face just over his shoulder. Her eyes were turned away from him, but she was watching the progress intently; he could see red streaks at the corners of her eyes instead of white. A smudge of mascara trailing back where she'd dashed away tears.

And that, more than anything, restored his hope.

Kate took him outside the step-down unit herself, pushing the wheelchair to a corner far from the televisions blaring nightly news. He was checking his phone for all calls (purely to see if Alexis had indeed called from her cell) when he noticed that Kate had called Powell.

So she *was* going to use Powell to crack the safe. But apparently she wasn't going to tell *him* about it.

Well, tough shit, Kate Beckett. Because he *would* follow her; he would follow her as far as it went, as long as it took, because she was worth it. Even if she gave the ring back and meant it, she wasn't getting rid of him. Impossible.

Kate put the brakes on the chair and stepped away, still just past his view. "I'll give you some privacy."

He shifted to grab her, but she was already gone. And his body ached something fierce, sitting upright like this, his shoulders hunched even though he tried to sit up straight. It hurt all the way to the bone, and he wondered how much of the pain was from the bullet, and how much from the two rings in his hand.

So Castle gave in and called his daughter, the chain clanking against the back of his phone.

* * *

><p>Kate was nowhere in sight when he hung up with Alexis. She'd said thirty minutes, but it had been forty already. Castle quickly placed another call.<p>

"Ah, Agent Beckett, change your mind?"

Powell's voice, charming and seductive on the other end of the line, confirmed Castle's theory.

"Actually, old friend, it's me this time."

"Richard. So good to hear you. Your lady love told me you'd been shot?"

Lady love? Really. Probably not Kate's term. "I was. It's complicated, and I'm not sure how much Kate told you-"

"Nothing at all. She said it was safer not to know."

Castle shivered, dropped his chin. "She's right. But they were aiming for her."

Silence reigned for a long moment, and then he heard Powell's delicate throat-clearing. "I do understand now. This is about her mother. How unfortunate."

"That's quite an understatement."

"What are you calling about then, Richard?"

Castle tried to straighten his spine without pulling on his shoulder; his back was getting cramped, a consistent throbbing had started up in his shoulder, rattling his collarbone. "I need you to tell me what's in that safe when Beckett has you do the job."

"Why wouldn't she tell you herself?"

"She's the Lone Ranger type, Powell. And now that I'm shot, I'm afraid she's going to try to tackle this alone."

"I see."

He waited for Powell to make up his mind. The man was a thief, of course, but he lived by a code of honor. Double-crossing Beckett, even though a cop - strike that - a federal agent, would not be a welcome thought.

"All right, Richard. Because I want you to owe me. And because I think perhaps you're right. The lovely agent just might do something supremely stupid in her haste."

Castle sighed in relief, closed his eyes a moment to let the tension drain out of him. From behind him, he had the sudden sense that Kate Beckett had come back to the lobby and was now watching him.

"We've arranged it for tonight."

"I have to go, Powell. But thank you. I should have my phone with me from now on."

"All right. I'll let you know. You have my word."

Castle hung up and tried not to let his triumph show on his face. He heard Beckett behind him and turned his head, wincing as it strained against the wound.

She paused a few feet from him, as if struck. He wiped the pain out of his mind, off his face, and dropped his phone in his lap.

Castle opened his palm so that she could the chain still in his fist (sweaty now, from holding it for hours). Kate's face never changed, but he swore he saw anguish lurking in her eyes.

"I'll hold it for you," he said finally. "Both of them."

She was a making a fist at her thigh, struggling with something.

"But I need your help putting it on."

He held it up by the chain, watched her face as she was hypnotized by the rings spinning in the air. There was a long moment in which he was afraid she would refuse, and then a brief, fleeting second where he expected her to snatch them back. But she did neither.

Instead, she let her fingers slide through the chain and draw it back. He still held on. Together, they dropped the chain around his neck, the two rings clattering as they fell.

Castle watched her eyes, pleaded silently with her to look at him.

Instead, she reached out and touched the rings, then tucked them under his hospital gown, her hand covering them as if to keep them protected under the thin material. Even though her fingers were blessedly warm, and he never wanted her to stop touching him, there was a statement he needed to make.

Castle batted her hand away, reached down to tug the chain back up. "I'm not hiding anything, Kate Beckett."

She jerked upright as if stung and looked across the lobby to the television. He could see the blank wall of stone built up behind her eyes now.

"Kate," he called softly, waiting until he had her attention. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving your side. I'm in love with you. I'm still in love with you."

_And nothing you can do will change my mind._


	15. Chapter 15

Kate came back to the hospital hours later, breaking all the rules about visiting hours, and walked through the door of the step-down unit.

And he wasn't there. The bed made up. The wires trailing on the floor to nothing.

The pounding breathlessness of panic enveloped her, long enough to blank her vision, mute her hearing, until a tug on her elbow brought her back.

"Agent Beckett, he's been moved."

And slowly her furious heart weakly struggled back into rhythm.

After getting directions from the nurse, Kate found him on a regular floor, sitting up in bed with his feet swung over the side like he was getting ready to hop up.

"Going somewhere?"

He looked surprised to see her. She wondered why until she saw the knowledge in his eyes, the depths of information.

"What was in the safe?"

He knew. Damn. Powell had told him.

"Directions to a safety deposit box at Craddock Bank. In Las Vegas."

His steady gaze told her he already knew this. He was waiting for the rest of it.

"And a name."

"You run it?"

She nodded. That's why she was here so late. "I got an address. He lives in Vegas. Used to be Special Forces."

Kate could tell by the flicker through his dark eyes that he understood, all too clearly, the implications associated with a man from Special Forces.

"You're going," he said, and his face was like a stone, heavy and dull, emotionless.

That alone told her. "I'm going."

He was suddenly swaying as he struggled to stay sitting; Kate moved carefully to his side and put her palm to his back, steadying him. She tried to draw him down to the bed, but he refused to go.

She pressed on his uninjured shoulder. He resisted, tried to knock her hand away. "I'm. . .coming."

"No, you're not, Castle."

"I'm not letting you go alone."

"You really don't have any say over this. You were shot. You need to stay here." She would like to make her voice soft, tender, but she was too tired, too hurting, too grief-consumed to be able to pull it off. Instead, she knew she sounded dismissive.

"Don't go alone." He'd closed his eyes to ask, a note of pleading in his voice. She hated to deny him, but it was an impossible request.

"I have to get to Vegas before this guy hears about Montgomery's death. Before all my leads dry up."

Castle took a ragged breath. Kate realized that the skin under the hospital gown beneath her fingers was hot and clammy. Whatever pain he was in was enough to make him shake. But he was silent about it. And that scared her.

"You're supposed to report to Avery in Cleveland on Monday."

"I have to do this, Castle-"

His head turned to hers sharply, eyes open. "You don't have to do anything, Kate. But you keep making these stupid choices, like your hands are tied. But they're not-"

"You can't ask me to stop, Castle. This is my mother's murder-"

"I know what this is. You know me, Kate, I'm the first one to say we can do this. But right now, alone? You can't do this. You shouldn't do this alone. I know you're damn stubborn, I get it. But don't go running off into the dark without backup-"

"If you knew, if you really understood what this is to me, you wouldn't ask this." She couldn't look at him, her rising frustration mingling with the hot horror of Montgomery's death. And Castle had been shot. Castle was stuck in this damn hospital.

"I'm not asking you to quit. Just to be smart. Be careful. Don't go alone-"

"If you were in any shape to travel, Castle, you'd be with me on this." She tried to bring her irritable restlessness back under control. Her whole being yearned for vengeance, for an ending to this endless conspiracy. It was so close she could taste it; she could reach out her hand and strangle it.

His body shook again as he leaned forward, practically breathless with pain. "At least call Jordan. See if-"

Her anger boiled over like a switch had been flipped. "Are you gonna go running to Jordan whenever we have a problem, Castle? Is she your girl now?"

His own anger met her, his eyes glittering with intensity. "If you're being pig-headed and too stubborn to save your own skin, then yes. I will get Jordan to pull rank on you, every time."

Kate breathed hard in the sudden silence, somehow knowing that this was it. This would make or break them.

She'd given back his ring.

So she drew her phone out of her pocket, never taking her eyes off of him, because this act was the only sign of her promise to him that she could give right now.

When she put the phone to her ear, Castle finally leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes. But still listening.

* * *

><p>"What do you need me for? It sounds like you're deadset on ignoring my instructions and doing whatever the hell you want, Agent Beckett."<p>

She had a spine of steel; she would not bow.

"I need to follow this. I have to do this. If I don't get this conspiracy closed down, I won't ever know if I'm truly safe. And Castle. And his daughter. Don't ask me-"

"You're supposed to be in Cleveland on Monday for your probation."

Kate watched Castle struggle for a moment in the hospital bed, then eased forward to help him pull his legs back up, tuck the covers around his hips. He had his eyes closed again. Was it pain or did he not want to look at her?

"Can't you. . .do something? What if you let me work my probationary time on this case instead?"

"You want to make this a federal case?"

Kate's heart tripped. Montgomery's death. Lockwood, that vicious and deadly gleam in his eyes as he turned and shot Rick. Castle stumbling, falling, blood spilling out across the sidewalk, her two hands pressed against his shoulder.

Kate still had his blood under her nails. She couldn't get to it, couldn't clean it out.

She took a deep breath. "Under the Rico Act, we can make it a federal case. The money that paid off Ryker came from Dubai, from a bank on the FBI's own watch list."

She saw Castle's eyes open and fix on her. That was new information; Ryan had just called her maybe twenty minutes earlier with that news. She held his gaze, tried to show him that she had meant to tell him, she would have told him.

"We make this a federal case and the guys at the 12th are going to hate you, Beckett."

She rubbed her forehead and tried to ignore the clamoring headache. Ignore the certain furious storm from Esposito when he found out she'd taken over the case. Not just Kate, but Agent Beckett of the FBI. "I have to go to Vegas. I have to follow this lead. Right now. Before it disappears."

Jordan gave a long sigh on the other end. Kate reached out and snagged Castle's hand, needing something to hold, to squeeze, while Jordan took her sweet time, putting Kate on edge.

Castle didn't pull his hand away; she considered it a major victory.

"I'm finishing up a profile in Denver. Give me 24 hours to fly back to New York, take over the case from the lead detective-"

"I can't. I have to go now." Castle's hand squeezed harder.

"24 hours, *Agent* Beckett. You want to keep your new job? You want to keep your new life? You want to stay *alive* here? Then you wait for me to get this case officially."

Desperation welled up in her. "I can't-"

"Kate-"

"Castle was shot. They shot him. I have to do this now. I'm flying to Vegas-"

"Do not make me put you on the no-fly list." Shaw's voice was pitched low, furious. Beckett wondered where the woman was, where this phone call had unexpectedly caught her.

"You wouldn't do it." Kate said confidently. "I need to get to Vegas before the lead dries up. This is it; this is where I get some answers. The Captain gave me a name, and a key. I need to get there before the Dragon closes this thing up. With or without you-"

Shaw snarled on her end; a muffled noise like she was putting her hand over the mouthpiece. Kate waited, knowing that no matter what Shaw said, she was going. She was leaving Castle here to recuperate and heading to Vegas.

Shaw came back on the line, more heat in her voice than Beckett had ever heard. "Fly to Vegas. But, damn it, Kate Beckett, you do *nothing* official for 24 hours. You hear me? No arrests, no flashing your badge; do not liase with the SAC in the Vegas office. Nothing."

Her heart rose in her throat. "Okay."

"24 hours."

"Okay. I got it."

"Do you? You have a name and a key and you had better sit on it until I get this case officially."

"I can do that. I can." She wouldn't. But going to talk to a man about Montgomery was nothing but. . .being solicitous. She would just inform the man of the sudden and tragic death.

Her throat closed up.

"Nothing for 24 hours, Beckett. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

><p>She wouldn't let him pay for her ticket, but the moment she left to pack (her hand curling around his spare key which she'd gotten from the drawer in his desk earlier tonight), Castle called the desk agent at the airlines.<p>

He upgraded her seat and put it on his credit card, the one he'd gotten issued in her name a few weeks back. He had warned her that he'd taken care of all the wedding details. And damn if he was going to let her fly coach.

Then he reserved his own seat beside her.

He was going, no matter what she thought.

They had the red-eye flight from New York to Vegas; the desk agent asked him if he would need curbside check-in, and he asked instead if he could be provided a wheelchair. The agent set up a wheelchair service to meet him outside the airline's terminal, and then promised him to assign a flight attendant to get him to his seat.

He refused the extra help. He would walk down the gangway and onto the airplane under his own power; it would be a good test of his endurance, his ability to actually do this.

Kate was at the loft right now; she would head straight to the airport after she'd packed. He couldn't take the chance of running into her there and having her take drastic measures to leave him behind. So he'd forgo his own suitcase. He could pick up what he needed in Vegas.

He called the Venetian Hotel and booked them a presidential suite, though not the penthouse. He had a feeling she would outright refuse a penthouse.

First, he needed to sign himself out of here and call his car service. He'd ask for Justin; the man was fit and would be able to help Castle get in and out of the car with a minimum amount of movement.

He pressed the nurse's call button and slowly leaned forward. The dizziness was intense for a second, but then his head cleared and the pain in his shoulder flared to life again.

Castle had been refusing pain medicine since he'd woken up. The anesthesia was pretty much out of his system, although the dizziness was a side effect that would be slow to leave him. He remembered how terrible the anesthesia had made him feel when he'd gotten his appendix out as a college student.

And being forty wouldn't do him any favors this time around.

When he had caught his breath again, Castle slid his legs slowly out of the bed, his thighs bared by the too-short hospital gown, goose bumps on his flesh.

The nurse came in and bustled to his side. "Bathroom break?"

He grunted a yes, figuring this was the easiest way to have her help him out of bed, and shuffled to the bathroom. Also, he did need to go.

After he washed his hand, he carefully searched the bathroom for the clothes Kate had left him, finally finding them in a plastic bag tucked into a corner. One-handed, he pulled out jeans, boxers, a tshirt, and a plaid button up.

His arm was held in place with a velcro sling that attached to the band across his stomach. Castle carefully dug at the strap with his free hand, finally peeling the velcro band apart; it hung limply from his still-wrapped arm, the sling now ineffective. The sharp jolt of agony, like a long, wicked knife into his collarbone, made him stop and close his eyes.

He pictured Kate's face in the front yard of Montgomery's home, the way she had looked seeing him held hostage by Lockwood.

And he carefully angled his good arm into his tshirt and grit his teeth against the pain.

He had a flight to catch.


	16. Chapter 16

It wasn't until she was already sitting outside the gate that she noticed her boarding pass read 'first class' with her seat printed as 5A. She was just about to head to the gate agent when it hit her.

Castle. He'd upgraded her seat after she'd left. Which was sweet. And totally a Castle thing to do.

It made her feel guilty of course. Maybe that was a nice side effect of his little gift, a way of making sure she was thinking about him. He'd put her in first class and she had left him with an empty promise.

Empty. She felt hollowed out at the thought of that chain now around his neck, with its his and hers rings. She wished she hadn't panicked and slipped it off; she wished he hadn't reached out and grabbed it, pulled her in too close to him; she wished she were a different person, one who could handle it all.

She wished it wasn't now his burden to carry.

She longed to wrap her fingers around those twin metal circles, to slide her thumb in and out of his wedding band.

Because she'd already held it against her heart, already held it in her fist, hard, already spun it, dangling, from the chain. Tested it out. She'd already thought of it as the ring that would eventually be at home on his finger, warmed by his skin. She'd already pictured it, already toyed with the round and smooth metal and imagined sliding it on him - even though she hated that about herself.

Those rings had been her constant all throughout her Quantico training, and before that, her mother's ring had been tucked under her shirt at the 12th; she almost didn't know how to be a professional officer of the law without them.

Her section was called first to board and she hopped up gratefully, eager to be gone. Away from her thoughts. She slung her carryon bag over her shoulder and then the bag that doubled as a purse and laptop carrier. The boarding pass in her fingers, she headed towards the agent standing at the gate.

She'd checked her suitcase; it had her weapon inside. Security had been easier to get through this time without it on her person. But she felt vulnerable without it, especially in light of Montgomery's death, Castle's getting shot. She felt like she was being hunted, not knowing who else was out there, if Lockwood's fake-police cronies were looking for her.

The agent scanned the barcode on her ticket and handed it back; Kate walked down the gangway and into the plane. Her seat was luxurious and wide; being tall, she'd often felt like she was going to break her kneecaps sitting in coach.

She'd have to thank Castle. She brought out her phone to text him but decided against it. Not a good idea to rub it in.

People shuffled past her with their own luggage, scanning the aisle for their seats. Kate kept her eyes averted, distracted herself with her phone before she'd have to turn it off. She texted Ryan back about Ryker and the money, reminding him to follow the Dubai bank connection, and on a sudden whim or maybe insight, asked him to check if Craddock Bank in Vegas had anything to do with Dubai. Just in case. Lots of casinos in both places, lots of people seeking entertainment and pleasure and gambling.

She had a message from Alexis, saying thank you for helping her move in to NYU. She'd sent a photo of her room, almost completely unpacked now of course. Kate texted her back, but neglected to mention she was on a plane for Vegas.

Passengers had pretty much found their seats by now, but the plane door was still open to the concourse. Kate craned her neck and peered down the aisle; two flight attendants were at the front, chatting quietly. Another began passing her seat, so Kate cleared her throat.

"Excuse me-"

"What can I help you with, ma'am?"

Oh. She was a ma'am now?

"I was just wondering. I'm. . .a federal agent. Is something wrong?" She hoped the woman hadn't noticed the strangled pause before she'd managed to get that out.

"No, no. Nothing wrong. Thank you for letting us know; we appreciate knowing who the good guys are." The flight attendant winked at her, as if it was their little secret. Beckett was beginning to regret stopping her.

"Are we waiting on something?" She'd been on a flight one time where they had to replace something mechanical on the wings that controlled the de-icer; she had no idea of the details, only that they'd spent fifty minutes sitting on the runway, soaked in sweat because the air couldn't be turned on.

"We have a passenger who needed some special attention. He's making his way here now. Oh, there he is. In fact, I think his seat is next to yours."

Kate turned her head towards the open door of the plane, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. She knew-

and it was. It was him.

He was surrounded by three female flight attendants, young and blonde and busty, who helped him out of the wheelchair still at the end of the concourse. He smiled at them and one giggled; his grin got wider, more sly, and the dumb one leaned in to stroke his hand where it was velcroed to his side.

Of course.

Castle.

She stood up, a surge of irritation and worry crashing over her, carrying her towards the front galley and Castle's oh-so-helpful attendants.

"Castle," she hissed, but she realized with dismay that her voice sounded more broken than pissed. She wanted to be angry, not relieved and anxious over him.

His smile was bright and sunny, a little too forced, and now that she was closer, she saw the deep lines of pain that creased his temples and wore paths along his mouth.

"What are you doing, you idiot man?" She reached for him, 'accidentally' bumping into the blonde at his side, touched his neck to feel for his pulse.

Pounding. Hard.

"Damn it, Castle. You should be in the hospital."

"Kate-"

"What do you think you're doing? This is dangerously foolish."

"Kate-"

"What are you trying to prove?"

"Kate! If you don't let me sit down, I'm gonna pass out."

She brushed aside the others and put her shoulder under his good armpit, felt his weight settle hard against her as she began guiding him down the aisle. He was truly weak, his steps rubbery, and she put him at the window seat to keep his left arm out of the aisle, then leaned over him to snap his seat belt together.

A flight attendant had brought his carryon with her; Kate took it and stowed it under Castle's legs, glaring over at the woman until she headed for the front of the plane again.

The fasten seatbelt light came on and Kate sat back down, settling in and looking over at Castle. This man. . .

She stroked her hand across his temple, her fingers coming away with clammy sweat.

"Oh, Rick," she murmured, brushing her lips across his forehead. "Why are you doing this?"

"Partners," he grunted, but his eyes were closed.

"You should be in bed," she sighed, then hastily continued on at the teasing look in his suddenly open eyes. "A hospital bed. With medicine. And doctors to look after you. What if your wound gets infected? What if you picked up walking pneumonia from being intubated during surgery? Or blood poisoning? What-"

"Kate, love, I'll listen to you chew me out later. Or freak out. Not sure which one you're doing right now, but either way, it doesn't sound like you. Right now, I've - ah - got a mild sedative in my bag and it is calling my name." He moved like he was going to lean forward and she put a hand on his collarbone and gently stilled him, careful not to push.

"Okay. Rain check on the thrashing. Where are the pills? I'll get them for you."

"Inside pocket. A little orange bottle."

Kate unzipped the bag and fished around for his meds. When she pulled the bottle out and read the directions, she growled and turned to look at him. "These are your mother's, Richard Castle."

He nodded. "Mother has some good drugs. She broke an ankle during a production once."

"Castle. You cannot-"

"I checked out AMA. They wouldn't prescribe me anything, Kate. I can't sit here for hours, even in first class, with this monster ache. I need drugs."

AMA? "You checked out AMA? Castle-"

"Need the drugs first, Kate."

"You *need* to be in the hospital."

"I need to be with you. And you're going to Vegas. So-"

"You're making me feel like shit." She shook her head, surprised she'd even said that, tried to take some deep breaths and gather herself back together. "I need you well, and whole again, Castle."

He used his right arm to reach up and grab the necklace resting against his chest that she'd been trying so hard not to notice. He lifted the rings in his palm and looked down at them. "I could really use those little pills, Kate. If you want me to survive this."

She growled and popped out of her seat, despite the seatbelt sign and the plane taxiing to the runway. A flight attendant rebuked her crossly, but Kate headed to the galley and held her hand up to silence the woman.

"I need a bottle of water. My partner has some medicine he needs to take before we get going." She gestured over her shoulder. The woman risked a glance but nodded at her.

When she had the water, Kate stalked back to their first class seats and broke the seal on the bottle. She still had the pills in her hand, so she twisted the top off and pulled out two, according to the directions.

Castle watched her with a feverish look. He had to be hurting so badly; his shoulder must've burned with pain. She handed over the pills and water and watched him take them.

She got a tap on her shoulder from a flight attendant, reminding her to put her seatbelt back on. Kate sat back, snapped in quickly, and snagged the water from Castle's fingers just before he dropped it.

"Uh, I feel like shit," he muttered.

She sighed. "Castle. I really wish you'd stay here."

"I really wish you hadn't left me."

"I wasn't leaving you."

"Are you punishing me for getting shot? Cause I didn't mean to," he whined.

Kate brushed her fingers softly over the back of his hand. "Pills work fast, hm?" She heard the plane whine as it began pushing for air, faster and faster down the runway.

"No, yeah. It's good." He closed his eyes again and rolled his head towards her. After a long moment, he opened his eyes. Stared at her. "I love you."

She chewed on her lip, brought her other hand up to caress his cheek. "I love you too, Castle." Oh God, how could she control this silly, crazy man?

"That's good." His eyes were slipping closed, then his lashes fluttered back up as he tried to fight it. "I wish you'd take it back."

The airplane shuddered, still on the ground but straining for sky. "What?"

He had his free hand clenched around the rings; she could see where the chain had dug into his neck. "The ring. I wish you'd take it back. It makes me sad."

Oh God. She bit her lip and reached for his fist around the chain. He uncurled his fingers into hers and she felt the warm metal of the two rings against her palm.

She leaned in and kissed the rings, then up to softly, gently kiss him as well. "I don't want to make you sad. But I do want to keep you safe."

"What does one have to do with the other? I can be safe and not be-" He moaned, and his head tilted back in the seat, his body tense. The plane lifted up at the same time, pushed them both back in their seats as it fought for altitude.

She clenched her fist around the rings, chewing on her lip and battling back tears as she watched him. She tried to remember to breathe. The take-off was doing a number on him.

He shuddered, giving a pitiful yelp as the vibrations hit his shoulder. "Gotta. Have to move it. Kate - ah - help me-"

Helplessness flooded her, but she unclicked her seatbelt and sat forward, moving towards him. He reached out with his good hand and clutched at her shoulder, trying to lean forward against the tug of gravity.

"Okay, I got you, Castle." She shifted so she could hunch over in the floor in front of him (she was grateful for first class), and then tried to very carefully move his body forward.

He panted hard and his forehead touched hers, his breath hot and fast against her cheek.

"You're okay. You're gonna be fine, Castle." She wondered if the meds were any good or if they'd expired. She managed to angle his body towards the window so that no part of his wounded shoulder was pressed against the seat.

She thought lying on his side might be a worse position, since his collarbone would shift, his shoulder joint relax, but he seemed to want to prop himself like that. Almost curled in.

He had his eyes closed now, his face was white, his lips bloodless. She stroked his cheeks, kissed the corner of his mouth, gently guided his head back to the chair.

Castle took in great, deep breaths under her intent gaze. She waited long enough to know that he was a little more relaxed, then leaned across him to get at his chair's controls. Kate slowly lowered him back until the color returned to his face.

She reclined her chair as well and wished she were closer, but pushing back her armrest and his seemed to lessen the distance. Reaching out to him between the gap in their seats, she brushed her fingers against his back, wriggling as far over as she could get. Kate began making aimless circles over his back.

He sighed softly. "Feels good."

"Hush, Castle. Go to sleep. You need to rest."

"You forgot this," he murmured.

"What did I forget?"

"My ring. You forgot to wear my ring."

She swiped at the tear that spilled from her eye and cleared her throat. "I didn't forget. I'll take it from you when you feel better, Rick."

When he answered, his voice sounded as if he were talking to her through a great effort. "When will that be? Tomorrow? A month?" He sighed deeply. "Never?"

She slid her fingers up his back to the hair at his neck, scratched lightly at his scalp. His body relaxed a little more.

"No, not a month. Not tomorrow. Certainly not never. When you wake up. Okay? I promise. When you wake up I'll take your ring."


	17. Chapter 17

Castle struggled to hold onto the darkness, knowing that misery waited in the light. But something tugged at him, a gentle tug, and its persistence was the thing that led him out.

When he opened his eyes, Kate was hovering over him, her fingers at the back of his neck, the plane still.

The plane. Oh. Vegas. The bank. Lockwood.

He'd been shot. Aw, shit, it *hurt.*

"Kate?" he queried, but his voice came out scratchy and dry, a wool sock in his mouth.

She stopped fumbling at his neck, brushed her fingers along his cheek. "Castle."

"What're you doin'?" It was difficult to move his tongue around in all this sock.

"Guess I'm waking you up," she answered softly. Castle squinted and tried to move, but his whole body was having numbness issues.

"That tickled. On my neck," he said finally, accidentally shrugging his shoulder. He blinked as frissons of pain awoke in his body. "Ah."

"They're getting you a wheelchair," she added.

"Why were you messing with my neck? You coulda kissed me awake. I woulda liked that." It was strange how words just kept tumbling out of his mouth. "Oh. I just said that out loud. I-"

And then she did kiss him (like all he had to do was ask), soft and delicate, barely touching him, but it was sooo nice, and pretty. Like a butterfly. He didn't know what color. Rainbow? Sure. Rainbow colored butterfly, those wings you don't even feel.

"Rainbow kiss," he murmured, opening his eyes to smile at her. She was looking at him funny.

She shook her head and reached for his neck again, brushing her fingers against his skin. "I was trying to get this back without bothering you. A surprise when you woke up."

Oh, beautiful. This might be a good day. It was morning now, right? The red-eye had flown them through the night and into the morning. "The ring? Yeah. Yeah, yeah. How were you gonna do that without me knowing?"

"I'm a ninja," she smiled. Kate flicked her nail against his skin, and it pinched. He screwed up his face and muttered a long owwwww but she only smirked at him.

"See? I unhooked the clasp," she murmured, and drew the necklace away from him. The weight of the two rings lifted from his chest; he took a deep breath and winced as his shoulder twinged.

He'd wanted to be the one to put it back on her, but he could only watch as she fastened it around her neck, then pressed her hand over the rings, tightened her fingers into a fist.

"You couldn't wait," he said happily, sighing again. "You wanted to surprise me. You love me."

"Guess that's true." She leaned over him, the rings falling forward and bouncing off his shoulder. He didn't feel it but she jerked back and tucked them under her shirt, and that didn't feel so good, it being hidden away again.

Castle tried to reach up and snag the chain, but his arm was numb. "I think...my arm has fallen asleep."

Her eyebrow raised; he saw a curious mix of apprehension on her features. And then she brushed her hand down his wounded arm, as if-

"Naw, not that one, silly. The one I'm laying on. It's all tingly. And I can't move it. Like a meat stick." He grinned, felt better about it. "A meat stick. That might be good. I could be hungry. You could convince me to eat. Bacon. We could get breakfast."

"Castle," she huffed, but it was good to see that little grin hiding in her eyes. Looks like someone wanted to come out and play.

Just then the flight attendant popped up, out of nowhere!, holy crap, and made him startle, and then he grit his teeth but the pain was a curious jab of a needle rather than what he'd been used to. Much better. This was good. He could survive this trip to Vegas, survive all his careful planning too, if these pills just kept the edge off.

The two of them, flight attendant with too much smile, and Kate, with not enough, heaved him out of the seat and into the aisle. Kate kept her arm around his waist and led him forward, slow step by dragging step. His good arm was numb but the blood was fast returning, and he needed to - to - to move - to jump around and dislodge the angry army ants storming up his arm. Storming! He was gonna die!

"Oh, shit, oh, shit," he muttered and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, squirming next to Kate to get away from his own reawakening arm.

"Castle?"

"Feeling's coming back in my arm," he hissed. "Ah, it's like, meat cleavers into my bones. Oh, suck, suck, suck-"

There was the wheelchair they'd brought for him, and he was antsy as they lowered him down. His butt hit the seat and jarred his whole body, but thankfully, whatever pain pills he'd swiped from his mother's medicine cabinet were doing the trick.

But the arm waking up was screeching. He rotated it around, carefully, trying not to pull on his chest because he knew, he wasn't stupid as all that, he knew that if he overdid it while on the pain pills, he might do real damage. His good arm was alive with crawly things, all of them eating at the muscles, the flesh, the tingling like razor wire inside his bones.

Kate squeezed his fingers and he yelped. "Oh my word, Kate Beckett, how long did you let me sleep on my only good arm?" He was complaining and he was blaming her for it, sure, but it hurt LIKE HELL.

"The whole flight, obviously. Stop being a baby."

He glared at her and she shoved his bag into his lap, then put hers on top of it. His arm was beginning to feel like an arm again, less like a meat stick, but that awful, no-good, very-bad burning just faded only somewhat.

"Be useful, Castle. You were the one who wanted to come with me."

Ooooh...to Vegas! They were in Vegas. Awesome sauce! "Jordan said 24 hours, right? So let's do Vegas, baby."

"Jordan said 24 hours, so you are going straight to a hospital in Vegas, baby," she said, all snarky but gorgeous as sin. Perfect for Vegas. A shirt with a deeper V neck, a shorter skirt, and they could be in business. Maybe that sexy Russian accent in his ear. . .

"I am not. No, no, no. I'm good. Pain pills are good. So good. No hospital, Katie. Puh-lease?"

"I bet they are good. Because you sound like a moron." Except, now she was pushing the wheelchair down the terminal, heading for baggage claim, and so she had to lean over and say it directly into his ear so he could hear her, low and rich and amused-

"You sound sexy-" he blurted out. "Sexy and a little pissed. And maybe there's some arousal in there?"

"Richard Castle," she hissed, shoving a little harder on the wheelchair, making his head lurch. "Keep your booming voice *down*."

Booming? He'd been aiming for aroused himself. He was going to turn to look over his shoulder at her because he'd forgotten, in just that short a time, but the dull edge of pain flared up as a reminder. Not a good idea. Gotta keep from hurting it worse or she'd really dump him in the hospital.

"You're not really making me go to the hospital, are you? That would be so sad. I want to see Vegas with you for 24 hours. I want to see you see Vegas, even if it's just 24 hours."

He heard her suck in her breath behind him and he wondered if that meant she was angrier, or if she was. . .

Well, it was the other one. Whatever that was. Because she leaned over and kissed that spot behind his ear.

"I want to find this guy first, Castle-"

"But 24 hours, Kate!"

"I won't question him yet. I'll just observe."

He didn't think that sounded quite like what Jordan Shaw had in mind, but if she was just observing the guy, then he could observe her.

"You do know I changed your reservations, right?" he offered, smiling to himself.

"You what?"

"You had a motel way way way off the strip. That's no fun, Kate. I got us a good one."

"Castle-"

"You're gonna liiiiiike it," he sing-songed, pleased with himself.

She just sighed. Good. She was getting used to it. Easier to start up phase two of his Beckett Master Plan.

He'd just *thought* up this plan like. . .two seconds ago, but it was a good one. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

She'd taken back his ring, hadn't she?

* * *

><p>When she got him to baggage claim, there was a man in a dark suit and dark sunglasses with Castle's name typed on a white sheet of paper.<p>

That's when she started to panic. Quietly, very quietly, but she was a detective and she saw this for what it was.

"Castle," she said softly, and his head jerked up. He must've seen the man because he sat up and gestured with his uninjured arm.

The man nodded and discreetly came closer. "Mr. Castle? I'm Sergio."

"Nice to meet you, Sergio. Great name. Sounds Italian. Probably isn't. You know me, I'm Rick Castle. This is Kate Beckett. She's a hot NYPD detective. No wait, a hot FBI Agent. She just *used* to be a detec-"

Kate thumped his ear and scowled at the back of his head. "As you can see, we're a little worse for wear. Would you-"

"Just point out which bags are yours, ma'am, sir, and I'll take care of it."

Kate gripped the handles of the wheelchair harder and tried to gather her wits as luggage went around and around on the conveyor belt. Since they'd been the last ones off the plane, since they'd taken their time getting here, their suitcases were practically the only ones left on the belt.

Castle gestured to the two pieces. "Black one with the red ribbon around the handle. Ooh, there's Kate's! It's black too but she refuses to put anything on it to make it easier to spot. No. Yeah. That's it."

Kate watched wordlessly as the driver (because he had to be their driver, didn't he?) managed to expertly, smoothly pull both bags from the luggage carousel.

When the man was still bending over their bags, Kate leaned down and hissed in Castle's ear.

"What did you do?"

"I just made it easier, Kate. Which is good, don't you think? 'Cause clearly, I am in no condition to do much in the way of being a gentleman. No opening doors. No carrying your luggage. Or you. Over the-"

Castle suddenly moaned and screwed up one eye. Kate wished he'd continue, because that little confession was beginning to get interesting. Carry her where? His devious, inventive little mind always spun some story. . .

"How's the pain?" she asked instead.

"It's there. Fuzzy. But sometimes. . ." He trailed off, his eyelids drifted as if gravity was too much for him. She waited, but he didn't continue. Her worry ratcheted up a notch as she studied his face. All lines, lines of pain and concentration, leading to that downward turned mouth.

Their driver, Sergio, came back with their bags and then took the two carryons from Castle's lap, slung them over his shoulder. "If you will follow me."

Kate watched his back for a long moment, debating the wisdom of agreeing to this. If she allowed Castle to get away with hiring a driver, then what else was she also tacitly agreeing to?

Problem was, she was so weary, so worn out that she didn't think she cared to analyze it anymore.

She followed Sergio.

* * *

><p>It was a limo. It was a limo and well. . .she was a little bit glad it was, because it meant that Castle could stretch out and get a bit more comfortable than if he was stuck in a cramped taxi. Kate sat across from him with her feet extending across the space between them, letting him wrap the fingers of his good hand around her ankle. She studied him for signs of a worsening condition.<p>

Apparently Sergio knew right where to go, because Castle didn't even give him an address, and when Kate told the man the name of the motel where she had reservations, Castle had waved her off. He had said he'd gotten a hotel on the Strip, but she'd been a little uncertain as to the veracity of that claim, considering the other crazy things coming out of his mouth.

He spent the ride whining for more pills, but Kate wasn't about to give him any more of those before the six hours were up. No matter that they were intended for a woman half his size (as he put it), no matter that he moaned he could feel it again, that it was like ice shards digging into him.

Tough. This was his stupid choice, and he could live with the consequences.

Of course, the moment his whining turned quiet, the moment he stopped complaining? She'd have those pills out so fast, he'd get whiplash. She knew that. He knew that. Didn't change a thing.

As the limo rolled through the early hour morning, Kate couldn't help gaping at the massive and magnificent hotels lining the Strip. Despite the hour, the Strip was crowded and the traffic thick, but she recognized the Bellagio's gorgeous facade and fountain from their crawl down the street. When the limo bypassed the public, circle drive but then turned into what looked to be the back of the sprawling property-

"Castle," she hissed, horror overtaking her. "What did you do?"

His eyes popped open and he craned his neck to look out the window, hissing back as he stretched his shoulder awkwardly and collapsed back. "I booked us the Villa."

The Villa? "What hotel is that?"

"Oh, it's not a hotel. The Bellagio has private villas. I got us one for a couple nights."

A couple nights? Of a private villa at the Bellagio? Oh my word. Oh my word-

"Castle. That - that - you can't -"

"You forget. I'm totally loaded. But yeah, it's a big deal, because these places are gorgeous, or so I hear. They have 24 hour butler service, Kate. Amazing!"

At least it wasn't awesome sauce, she thought, rolling her eyes again. The limo was stopping at a gorgeous reception area, surrounded by exotic flowers and winding walkways that obviously led to very private villas. Kate sat still in the back of the limo and tried not to freak out too much. Or at least to continue to freak out quietly, without hurting his feelings.

Twenty-four hour butler service?

"Castle. No. No, no, no. This is too much. We can't-"

"At least it's we. That's a good word: we. And we can. Why shouldn't we? If I'm gonna be miserable and in agony, and if you've got to be restless and pacing for 24 hours, might as well do it here."

And while she knew, instinctively, that this was a really bad idea, that giving in on this one was another step - leap - down the wrong path, she couldn't really find a way to deny him.

Then Sergio was opening the back door and reaching his hand in to help her out. While she stood stunned before the gorgeous view of this gardened estate, Sergio was already maneuvering Castle out of the back seat.

She turned, still absolutely overwhelmed, and speechless, and shaking, damn him, but Castle's eyes were squeezed fiercely shut, his lips pinched together as he leaned against the side of the limo.

And what could she say? Could she deny Castle a little bit of fun when he was so obviously miserable?

She ignored the little voice that said Castle could do whatever he wanted, *she* shouldn't stay there.

She ignored it and she carefully helped Castle inside the atrium and then up to the reception desk.

* * *

><p>Luxury Villa. Two bedrooms and five bathrooms. A dry sauna and an in-suite workout room. Limousine service through the private entrance. Fresh flowers on every gorgeous, expansive table; a dining room set for eight. A private kitchen, a massage room, and a full bar all inside 6,500 square feet of gorgeous, unbelievably swanky villa.<p>

And outside, the private terrace and garden surrounded a beautiful, sea-blue pool and deep, wide whirlpool.

She wasn't sure she could breathe.

Castle was in bed, propped up with every pillow in the place, another two pills already swallowed down. Despite his protests. He'd been whining for them in the limo, but when she took one look at the lines of pain marring his forehead, she'd pulled them out only to have him refuse.

Now he was asleep and Kate Beckett stood on the terrace with the summer heat just beginning to build, the peonies full and leaning over the pool, and the sliding door open at her back.

She slid her heels off and dipped a toe in the water, lulled by the soft susurration as waves rippled away.

It was amazing. And five thousand dollars a night. And just. . .incredible of him.

So quickly, she'd been won over by limo rides, butler service, and a private terrace.

Kate sat down on the edge of the pool, rolled up her pant legs to just at her knees, then stuck her feet in the warm water. The morning sun made everything yellow and clean, made it seem unreal and untouched.

Kate fingered the chain around her neck and drew it out from under her shirt. The two rings spun in the light, glinting gold. Even Castle's titanium ring had hints of warm ember in its depths.

But no. She hadn't been won over by luxury. She'd been won over by Castle. The man himself, now asleep in that wide and gloriously firm bed, with its pillowtop mattress, its canopy, sure, all those. But most importantly, she was here with Castle.

Anyone else and she'd have refused to let them on the plane, let alone gotten into that limo with them. Kate sighed and slipped his ring over her thumb, brought it to her lips. It was Castle. Always had been.

And it wasn't even splurging for him, although he had done his best to make it sound like a treat. Well, it probably was. She hadn't known him to be one to live in excess, to lavish, to revel in all that his money could get him. He'd alluded to having such days as a young, first-time best-seller, but mostly, Richard Castle was a down-to-earth kind of guy.

So what was she doing out here by the pool?

The ring around her thumb was warm, wide; it felt so natural and right.

She was hiding. She was taking a moment to breathe before diving back into it, because she'd seen the driver, the limo, the villa and she knew exactly what he had in mind.

And she wasn't sure yet if she'd play along, be good for 24 hours like Shaw had told her to anyway, or if she'd leave Castle to sleep off his pain pills and go hunting for the man whose name was written down in Montgomery's safe.

It shouldn't still be a decision. It should be decided, no questions asked. Castle was asleep, and would be for awhile, and she needed answers.

This ring came first.

Still, she lingered by the pool.


	18. Chapter 18

When Castle woke up alone, in the huge bed, a pillow was smothering his face. He shifted out from under it and spit out fuzz, wiping his hand over his mouth to get the taste of cotton and pain pills off his tongue.

He quietly, slowly tested his arm, waiting for wicked and evil blades of pain. But there was just the sharp spike of awareness that held just a tinge of agony. He could totally handle that. And the plan was back on.

First, he wanted to milk this for all it was worth. He needed someone to kiss it better.

"Kate?"

The silence that greeted him was a little stark. Harsh. He opened his eyes and rolled to his good arm, a little worried by the bout of dizziness that attacked him when he moved.

Then he levered himself up and struggled to sit on the side of the bed.

Early morning light. That was good. Not too late then. He had a few phone calls he needed to make, to get things set up, and then he'd probably have to trick Kate into shopping with him.

He did have to go supplement his wardrobe. He'd bought a suitcase and a few essentials in the airport, but he'd been in so much pain, he really hadn't managed much more than a few tshirts and a toothbrush. So ideally, Kate would go with him to 'help' pick out stuff since he was incapacitated.

Yeah, that could work. Only. . .where was Kate?

Castle texted his private assistant and then the coordinator he'd spoken with earlier. Last night. Huh. Yeah, that had been last night. After a second, he thought he might be able to actually stand up.

He got to his feet and shuffled through the bedroom, taking slow, measured steps, making sure nothing blocked his way. After an interminable time, he managed to get through the doorway and out into the living space.

He breathed slowly, tried to battle back the swinging sense that the ground was moving away from him. Just the last of the drugs, that was it.

"Kate?"

Had she left?

She might have left. There was the bank, and the guy. Right. Yeah, it was stupid of him to think she'd actually stick around while he was drugged into a drooling sleep. Stupid. She'd be doing her thing, detecting, whatever. He should-

And there was Kate. Sitting outside by the pool.

Oh. He blinked through the dust motes caught by the morning light and stumbled forward, his wounded arm still strapped to his chest and making his gait off-balanced.

The sliding glass door was open to the terrace, and he stepped slowly over the threshold, watching her. Her long legs swished in the water; she lifted one and let the water slide off the silk of her skin, brushing a hand over her knee.

"Kate."

She turned, her hair tumbling back over her shoulder, and she lifted her knee to put her foot on the edge of the pool. "Hey, you're awake. You look. . .woozy."

He took a deep breath of clean, morning air, scented with some flower he didn't recognize and Kate's cherry scent, an intoxicating combination. "You look gorgeous."

She stood, her pants half-unrolling back down her legs, a smile playing over her lips as she came closer. He swayed, both because of the pills and because of her, and waited until she was pressed against his body to smile back, relieved to have her there.

"Actually, Castle, you look. . .in pain."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he muttered, bending his head to kiss the side of her mouth. She turned her head in to meet him, sucked on his lip as she brushed her fingers along his jaw.

"I have more methods at my disposal than mere flattery."

He groaned and caressed the hair at the back of her neck, pressing his forehead to her cheek. "I got plans for you, Kate Beckett."

He was pleased to feel the ripple of awareness flicker down her body, the way her hand clenched at his waist. He smiled to himself and nuzzled her cheek, placing a kiss on her skin as her lashes tickled his.

"First order of business. I need some clothes."

"What's in your suitcase, Castle?"

"Almost nothing. A couple of 'I heart NY' tshirts I picked up at the airport. Deodorant. Shampoo."

She laughed, and Castle could feel the echoes of it against his chest. And into his shoulder. He ignored it and stroked his thumb down her neck, followed the touch with a brush of his lips.

"You know it's only six o'clock, right?"

He grunted in disappointment. "I guess stuff's not open yet?"

"Well, it *is* Vegas, so I can't be sure of that. But I. . .haven't slept yet, Castle."

"Oh." He wanted to know what she'd been doing the last couple of hours, but since he'd found her still here, he could guess. Either trying to talk herself out of leaving, or trying to talk herself into doing her job. It was fifty-fifty. He didn't really want to know.

"And you should probably get some more sleep. If you can."

He nodded and took another deep breath, just to check, and he was certain he could fee the ragged edge of his pain, like a border he was fast approaching, about to cross, a militant border with border guards who had orders to shoot him on sight.

"Come on, Castle. We can go shopping in a few hours."

* * *

><p>Kate put a knee on one side of the bed and set the alarm on her phone (she'd taken the case off of it and thrown it away, but she could still see where the blood - his blood - had caked into the round eye of the camera).<p>

Castle was propped up against the headboard; he said lying on his back made his shoulders hurt, both of them, and she'd seen the look on his face when he tried it, so she didn't push. He had his head tilted back against a pillow, his breathing was regular, but his free hand was clenched in a fist.

He refused to take any more of the medication; she didn't know if he was just being stubborn, or if he honestly expected to be able to go shopping in a couple hours.

She sank into the bed, sliding her legs under the bedsheets, curling an arm under the pillow. Between them was only his outstretched arm, the round fist pushed into the mattress next to his hip. Kate slid her arm out and wrapped her hand around his, tried to ease his fist.

He shifted above her; she could feel him watching her. She kissed the white edge of his knuckle and wished, again, that he'd go to a hospital.

"Sleep, Kate. You've got a couple hours."

"You're not?"

"Mm, I'll rest."

So that meant the pain was a little too insistent for him to fall asleep. She sighed and scooted a little closer, bringing her forehead to meet the side of his thigh. He untangled his hand from hers and placed his palm at the back of her head, his fingers warm and heavy along the smooth bone of her skull, sliding through her hair.

"Rick."

"I'll rest. I promise."

She sighed again but turned her head to look up at him; his ring finger brushed her lips, and she caught it with her teeth, soothed the edge with her mouth, kissing the crease of his knuckle.

He sighed too and traced a pattern against her ear. "Tease."

She smiled, twisting onto her back a little so she could look up into his eyes. "Night, Castle."

* * *

><p>He was jumpy in the limo ride, kept taking her hand and fiddling with her fingers or rubbing his palm over her thigh, up and down without any real heat to it.<p>

Kate figured he was on the fine edge of pain and trying not to fall over. His face was lined with the effort of sitting upright in the limo; his back barely touched the seat. He held his wounded arm stiffly.

So she let him touch, hoping it helped somehow.

When they arrived at an expensive-looking boutique just off the Strip, she wasn't sure what he had in mind. He got out from the car slowly and nodded to Sergio, who was their assigned driver apparently. Sergio shut the door behind them and went back to the driver's seat where he pulled out a tattered paperback.

Okay. So they were staying for awhile, she guessed.

"What are looking for here, Castle?" The place looked a little high-end for jeans and tshirts.

"I need a suit," he explained.

While she loved him in those well-tailored Mad-Men-type suits, she didn't think it was entirely necessary for this trip. "Well. That's not exactly-"

"I'll feel better in a suit."

Huh. Okay. "Let's find you a suit then."

He took a slow step up the sidewalk and she followed, realizing quickly how irritating this was going to be if he didn't pick up the pace a little.

"This is gonna take all day, Castle. You weren't shot in the leg."

He snorted and swiveled his head to look at her, then winced and hunched his good shoulder. "Don't make me laugh. Or turn my head."

"Why're you walking so slow?" she shot back.

"Little dizzy is all."

"Castle," she groaned, exasperated with him. "You shouldn't be out of bed if you're dizzy. Hell, you shouldn't be out of the hospital. That's it. We're-"

He grabbed her by the waist with a surprisingly strong grip. "No. I got a plan. Suit first. Then you."

"Me what?"

"It's all here, in this one place. We don't have to go anywhere else."

She eyed him distrustfully and crossed her arms; he'd attempted that soulful, pitiful look but he was having a hard time pulling it off. It was mostly a grimace. Which actually worked better on her sympathy, because he was going to a lot of trouble here for *something* and she was curious where this would go.

"Fine. Here, hold onto me and that way you won't keel over. And we can go a little faster than a snail's pace."

He grinned. "Look at that S-car go."

"What?"

He grinned wider when she gave him an eyebrow. "It's a punchline to Alexis's favorite joke. When she was a kid. A snail is driving a car with an S painted on it."

She huffed at him, but they had at least made it to the front doors. To buy a suit, the idiot. She opened it with a quick flick of her wrist and held the door with her hip as Castle shuffled inside.

"S-car?" she muttered, then heard how it sounded. "Oh. French for snail. Got it."

He chuckled next to her and made his way slowly for the back. "Yeah. That's a good one."

"Wait. You were telling Alexis jokes in which she'd have to know French in order to get the punchline?"

"Ah. Well. Yes?"

Kate let him lead the way, shaking her head at him. "The first time you told that joke, did you have to spend like twenty minutes explaining it?"

He bobbed his head on a nod and grinned again. "Yeah. But it was worth it. She made me tell it to her over and over."

Oh my. The Castle family was truly unique.

"All right. Tell me the joke," she sighed, flicking her eyes towards him to see the look on his face.

Delight bloomed over the ragged lines of pain, for an instant transforming his face back into the laughing man who liked to hang out at her desk in the 12th. It made her breath catch. She missed that man, the confidence and self-assuredness he'd had around her. Now that he loved her, or well, now that he knew she loved him, he seemed to always be worried she'd leave.

And that was sad.

"So this snail was getting really frustrated with being called slow all the time; his friends all made fun of him, said he was a slowpoke, he was just a snail and he'd never get anywhere on time. The last straw for the snail came when he embarked very early one morning for a late evening party with friends, but didn't arrive until it was already over. The snail, frustrated, decided to buy a car, a fast car-"

She sighed. He had to draw it out, didn't he? He couldn't have just started the joke with _A snail bought a fast car_?

"And he took it to the shop to have it detailed. He wanted something very specific painted on the door. The mechanic scratched his head, but did as the snail asked: he painted a large S onto the side. When the snail came in to pick up the car, and you know it took him a long time, he had to stop and rest, he had to eat lunch along the way-"

"Oh my gosh, get to the point," she burst out.

He laughed. "When the snail finally made it to the mechanic's shop, he oozed his way inside his new car and shut the door, admiring the S. The mechanic stopped him before he left. 'Why'd you want this custom paint job, Mr. Snail?' he asked."

Ah. Yes. Here it was.

"The snail said, 'So when I drive really fast down the street, everyone will say, "Look at that S car go!"' Cause, you know, escargot is French for snail."

"Yeah. I know." Kate stifled the laugh that wanted out, simply for how much he had enjoyed telling that joke. "Wow. That's definitely a joke kids would love."

He sighed happily. "I love it too."

"Figures."

He suddenly stopped and she glanced around; his terrible joke had distracted her from their surroundings. With a jolt, she realized that Castle had led her towards the formalwear.

Her heart pounded. Already? He was doing this, wasn't he? And doing it now. Today.

His words were soft. "I picked something out already. In the city, weeks ago. But I found it here, online yesterday. I want. . .would you try it on?"

She turned her head to him and tried to stifle the urge to run. "Your suit?" But she wasn't as dense as all that, and he shook his head at her, something sad in his eyes. She bit her lip and nodded. "I. . .I'll try it on."

He smiled again, a lightness coming over his face that she hadn't seen since. . .since before she'd gone to Quantico. "There's a lady here, the coordinator. She'll show you."

Coordinator. She wasn't stupid. "Where are you gonna be?"

"Getting my suit. There's a suite of fitting rooms at the back. We'll both end up there."

Panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird, but she ruthlessly pushed it down. He wanted to do this here, in Vegas. It was her fault, of course, for telling him in New York that she didn't know if she could keep that promise.

He was going to make her.

"Okay. I'll - I'll see you soon."

* * *

><p>When Kate walked through the curtain and stepped towards him, his stomach dropped out. Castle put a hand to the wall to keep from falling over and stared at her.<p>

A silvery-white silk gown practically made love to her body, clinging to what curves she had and dropping straight and razor fine over her legs. She looked both soft and ice hard at the same time. She looked. . .

"Oh God," he breathed and was given the stunning sight of her smoky eyes raised to search for his.

His wounded arm twitched at his side. He'd had to take the velcro brace off so that the tailor could help him get into the suit, and since he knew what came next, he hadn't put it back on. His shoulder throbbed with every step, but looking at Kate Beckett in that dress was a cool, stunning relief.

She stopped a few feet away from him, her eyes dark and burning, the dress softly rippling over her skin, like it still moved. He had to take a breath before he moved forward, bringing his good hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb under her eye, his gaze dropping to trace the line of her body under the silk.

"Amazing." How did he not have better words for this? For how she'd just managed to tear his guts out by simply walking into a room? He shook his head. "I can't. . ."

She had on kick-ass heels too, silver and sparkling, and she took advantage of the height to catch him around the neck and kiss him, long and slow and deep, her tongue stroking the roof of his mouth, her teeth on his lip. Ruthless and thorough.

When he could breathe again, she was stepping back from him. Castle swayed and she caught him, chuckling low under her breath with a voice that was as raw as his felt.

"I'm not just trying it on, am I?" she whispered, bringing her hand to his jaw, stepping in closer and pressing her cheek to his.

He couldn't see her eyes like this, but that might be a good thing for his addled brain. He could feel the silk of the dress under his fingers, but the back dipped so low that most of her skin was exposed; he feathered his hand there and she shuddered against him, gasping softly.

Oh hell, yeah. She was as on-the-edge as he was.

"You've already bought it," she said, her voice choked.

"Yeah. And this suit."

"Looks good on you," she admitted and the way she said 'good'. . .he knew what she had in mind.

He grinned because he'd kinda thought so. Good to have confirmation.

Then her thumb swiped his lips and she was back, gentler this time, soothing with her tongue, and he used the hand at her back to pull her up into him, deepening the kiss.

He grunted when she put her hands to his shoulders, and Kate jerked back, her mouth smudged and beautiful but her eyes wary.

"We can't do this, Castle. Your shoulder-"

"No way. Shoulder's fine. We *are* doing this."

"You should be in a hospital, not trying to get me into a wedding dress."

"You're already in it," he confirmed, meeting her eyes. "And I'd rather get you out of it. But that can be saved for later."

She held his gaze for a long time; he could see the war being raged between need and the need for common sense.

Finally she sighed. "What's next?"

He smiled, slow and pleased, and pushed aside the throb of his shoulder. "Flowers."

She half-turned to head back to the dressing room, but Castle caught her wrist. "Like that, Kate."

She paused, blinking at him. He'd thrown her a little. Well, probably a lot. But she was trying to adapt.

"All right. Flowers."

He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand against his side, heading for the back door that the coordinator had left open for them. Sergio was in the alley with the car, waiting.

Kate kept her hand in his throughout the ride. She had to know what came after the flowers. Didn't she?


	19. Chapter 19

The orchids laid in the seat next to her; Castle watched the way her fingers stroked their stems, her eyes thoughtful. Orchids were difficult flowers to maintain, even harder to cut and arrange, worse to use in a wedding bouquet. The florist had been unhappy with Castle's suggestion, but she had pulled it off.

They were deep violet, nearly black. Stained of course, somehow. He didn't know the details. But they reminded him of her, of Kate.

The bouquet was simply a few blossoms on a long sprig of curling green, their blossoms held up by careful attachment to what looked like a dried vine, strong and in perfect harmony with the tilt of the orchids. The stems were held together with a jade green ribbon, flat and smooth. Those were the colors he'd picked out nearly five months ago, because of Kate's green eyes and they this rich, dark purple looked on her.

Across from him in the limo, Kate sat carefully; she said she didn't want to wrinkle the dress. She kept smoothing her hands over the folds of her skirt.

He'd bought a pillow at a drug store down the block; it now propped up his injured arm and kept it mostly immobile during the limo ride. They were getting close now.

"Kate," he said softly.

She turned her eyes to him, dark and lined with the blurred charcoal of the limo's dim interior. She'd done something to her hair, braided one lock so that it swept back from her forehead and caught up with her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. Strands twisted free, limp curls that waved along her cheekbones, behind her ear. With her hair like this, her face appeared sharper, more dramatic and bold. He could see the round freckle of the birthmark just under her eye, stark and brilliant.

"Close your eyes," he asked.

"Why?"

"Because we're nearly there."

"But I want to see it."

"But I want you to see the magic. Not the reality. So you're gonna have to close your eyes until I tell you to open them."

She regarded him silently for a long time, then shifted her gaze to take in the view outside the window: increasingly run-down businesses, street workers, the blue-light strobe atop a cop car.

Then she slid her eyes back to him and nodded. "All right."

He smiled when she closed her eyes, wished he had the fortitude to lean across the space between them and kiss her eyelids.

But his upper body was throbbing, and he was afraid that if he leaned forward, he might not be able to stop himself. He'd go straight to the floor.

She spoke then, her eyes still closed. "I can feel you staring."

"Of course. You're beautiful."

She hummed under her breath, tilted her head. "Why did you take off the sling?"

"I don't want to be wearing a bright white velcro sling in our wedding photos."

He watched her lips curve, the corners smiling. "Photos?"

"In the garden," he added.

"Garden," she sighed, leaning back in the seat, a hand in her lap, palm up.

Castle watched her a moment longer then glanced out the window, saw the chapel coming up. It looked. . .better online. Of course. He'd suspected as much. But if he could just get her to the garden before she saw the rest of it, the parking lot, the Chinese place behind the dumpster, then this might work.

"Castle?"

"Turning in now," he said, right as the front wheels bumped over the drive.

The limo parked close to the front and Castle shifted to get ready. He could see the doubt warring over Kate's face; she wanted to open her eyes, he knew.

"Keep em closed, Beckett."

She smirked at him. "Better not make me fall."

Sergio opened the back door and helped him out slowly; Castle had to work his way to standing, then sway there for a moment to catch his balance. Sergio, thankfully, saw his need and helped Kate as well, keeping a close eye on her and telling her where to put her feet. Castle battled back the pulse of white hot pain as it sizzled down his side, through his chest.

When Castle thought he was under control again, he linked arms with Kate and steered her towards the pathway leading to the back. He could already see the coordinator scrambling to meet them.

"Kathy's coming our way," he murmured. "She's the coordinator for Chapel of Flowers."

"Chapel of Flowers?" Kate breathed, her eyelids flickering.

"Yeah. Eyes closed," he added.

Kathy approached with her clipboard in hand, rose and gold patterned skirt, dusty rose suit jacket. She was in her late fifties, had thought of and handled everything for him, and was currently bossing him around quite well.

"Mr. Castle."

"Hey again, Kathy. This is Kate. Can you lead us to the back? I want Kate to see it first."

Kathy shot Kate a strange, assessing look but she nodded. "Nice to meet you. Or rather, will be, once you can open your eyes?"

Kate gave a little laugh. "Yes. Same here."

Castle brought Kate through the garden path, past the falling down fence at the edge of the property, away from the parking lot and the dumpster, further into the overhanging willow trees, the creeping vines with their burgeoning flowers. After about ten feet, the gazebo came into view, brilliant cedar and decorated with simple sprays of white flowers at the support beams. A row of unlit white candles on one railing. The morning sunlight filtering through the overhead canopy.

"Okay," he said softly, turning towards Kate. "Open your eyes."

* * *

><p>What she saw was Eden.<p>

Peonies larger than her fist bloomed on thick bushes surrounding a redwood gazebo. In the distance, willow trees obscured the path they'd just took, dropping thin, silver leaves to the gravel below. Autumn cherry trees blossomed in delicate white, with veins of pink. Between them, crape myrtle in violet and nearly-blue bowed heavy with flower.

Kate heard babbling and turned to find a water feature set up opposite the gazebo, a low murmuring brook that meandered away from them. Beyond that, she could see a Japanese style foot bridge that led to a white stucco chapel, the hint of stained glass windows peeking between the tree branches.

"Oh," she breathed and turned to look at Castle, stunned.

"Yeah. Magic," he whispered and pressed his lips to hers. Soft, claiming, happy.

When they broke apart, Kate remembered the woman she'd sort of met and turned to find Kathy waiting on them.

"I'm Kate," she offered, holding out her hand.

"Beautiful dress." Kathy gave her a quick nod and a firm hand shake, then checked her clipboard. "Mr. Castle, everything is set up as you asked. Robert, our minister, is already getting ready and will out here in thirty."

Beside her, Castle nodded and glanced towards the gazebo. "The cameras are set up?"

"Up and running. They don't record until the ceremony starts, but you're connected."

Kate shot Castle a look, but Kathy was heading towards the footbridge with her clipboard. "I've got a few more things to take care of inside, and then it will be time."

Time.

Oh wow.

"Castle? Cameras?" she asked, squeezing his hand. The orchids in her other hand were almost forgotten, but she carefully laid the bouquet on the lip of the water feature, watching the stream bubble past the rock wall.

"We're skyping it."

She twisted back to look at him, hair tickling her cheek. Kate scraped it back behind an ear and glanced to the gazebo. "What do you mean?"

"I've got everyone at home set up on their end. Ryan's running it for me."

"Wait. What?"

He took her hand and walked carefully towards the gazebo. She was a little worried by the white tint to his mouth as he walked, his lips pressed together. But he looked happy, his face was beaming, despite whatever pain he had to be in.

Just inside the threshold, cleverly conceal by a low pillar, was a flat screen monitor and keyboard. She couldn't see the rest of the computer but it was running the Skype application. Castle clicked the video icon and she saw a little box pop up with what the other room could see of her and Castle's location.

And on the video chat section were a roomful of her family and friends, milling about on a parquet floor, dressed up with glases of wine in hand. Around thirty people, close and intimate, which she was grateful for. Not even Paula seemed to be in the crowd.

"Where is this?" she said, touching the screen.

"The Palace."

Where he'd arranged to have their first, impulsive wedding after she'd been fired. She put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. "Everyone's there?"

"Everyone. They'll be part of the ceremony. And then, when we get back home, we'll have the reception on the 27th, just like it was planned. Only. . .if we can't make it home, no big deal. We'll be already married. They can party without us."

Kate leaned in closer to his good arm, glanced around the gazebo. There were four cameras mounted high in the beams, and now that she was looking, she spotted a camera on a tripod out in the trees.

"We'll do pictures afterwards. But right now, Ryan's got our video image projected over one wall of the ballroom in the Palace Hotel. Well, he should be doing that-"

All of the sudden, someone noticed them, or noticed *something*, because a few people were pointing, crowding closer, shifting towards their perspective. Kate stood up, watched Lanie push to the front, saw her father drifting forwards with Alexis on one arm.

"Alexis?"

The girl laughed and waved, and Kate clapped a hand over her mouth, glanced to Castle. "They can hear us?"

"It's Skype. Of course they can hear us."

Someone laughed. Ryan and Esposito, looking entirely out of place in monkey suits, were quickly pushing their way forward.

"You guys came," she choked out, so grateful to see them.

Ryan shrugged but Esposito glared at her through the camera. "We're still pissed at you. Got word the FBI's taking over the case-"

Lanie smacked him hard in the stomach; Esposito hunched over and rubbed at the sore spot, wincing.

"All right, I got it, woman. Wedding first."

Ryan shook his head. "I'm not mad about that. I'm mad because you managed to set up everything *before* me and Jenny could tie the knot. Now we'll have to one-up you and that's a pretty high bar to set. Thanks." Jenny, who Kate now saw at the back of the crowd, grinned and waved as well.

Kate scanned the crowd again, the faces who had dropped everything for this morning's. . .craziness. "Dad?"

Her father gave a little wave; he seemed as daunted by the technology as he was by having Alexis on his arm. The young woman whispered something and Kate's father nodded. When he spoke, it was a little too loud, like he expected her to be hard of hearing.

"Congratulations, Katie."

"Thanks Dad. I - I'm sorry I'm not giving you the chance to walk me down the aisle." She did feel guilty for it, even though she had no impulse for weddings herself, no hidden bride's book where she'd cut out magazine pictures of all the thing she'd want at some future wedding. Even Kate's friend Madison had one of those. . .but it didn't mean she wanted her father to miss out.

"To do what? Give you away? Katie, you were never mine to hand over."

She felt Castle's hand squeeze hers and she grinned at her father. "Too true."

"Besides, at the reception, we'll have our dance," Jim said. He blew her a kiss.

Alexis let go of Jim's arm and stepped closer to the camera, her eyes sparkling. "Surprise, Kate."

"Yeah. That's for sure. How long have you known?"

Alexis laughed. "Dad told me before he left for the airport. So not long."

It was then that Kate noticed Alexis and Lanie wearing matching dresses, a brilliant jade green that looked stunning on both of them. Kate turned to look at Castle, her heart pounding in her chest.

"The've got dresses."

"Kate, I've had months to work on this," he grinned. "You like?"

She glanced back to the screen: Alexis and Lanie were in the middle of the parquet floor, spinning each other in silly dance moves, the green skirts of their dresses flaring.

"Gorgeous. You guys look great."

Lanie stopped to laugh and Alexis curtsied demurely.

"Now you," Lanie said, shooing with her hands.

Checking herself against the little video at the bottom of the screen for reference, Kate backed up until they could see her dress, the long lines of it, the silvery white sheen. She spun slowly, couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

When she turned back around, she saw Castle had leaned against a support beam, his face thunderstruck. She grinned a little wider and looked back to the video.

Lanie was applauding and Alexis looked. . .like she was crying. "You like?" she asked, mimicking Castle, trying to give Alexis a moment.

Lanie was the one to recover her voice first. "You look beautiful, and happy, Kate."

"You look awesome," Alexis finally said. "It's so much more beautiful than I expected."

Kate shot Castle a look and he shrugged. "I had to ask *someone's* opinion."

"Girl, he asked all of us," Lanie interjected. Esposito nodded.

"Even us," Ryan added, looking disgusted. "He asked us about wedding dresses, Beckett. You owe us big time."

"Well, boys, you did good. But you can't borrow it."

Esposito mocked her and gave her the hand, quite a Lanie move, but Ryan disappeared, probably back to the computer.

Her dad was back in the shot now and he blew her another kiss, apparently still not able to trust that the video chat was real. Kate sighed at him and watched Alexis pull him to the side, friendly and engaging as always.

Castle leaned in and typed something into the chat window below the video.

_Twenty minutes_. _Battle stations._

"We'll see you guys in a few," he said out loud, then took Kate's hand and led her out of the gazebo.

When they were in the relative seclusion of the heavy-limbed crape myrtles, purple blossoms under their feet and drifting down like snow every time they moved, Castle used his good arm to snake it around her waist, pull her closer.

"Now that we're alone. I want to show you something."

"Save that for the wedding night," she whispered back, leaning in to kiss the underside of his jaw.

He chuckled and stroked his thumb over the hem of her dress where it dipped low in the back.

"I have your ring," he said instead.

She startled. "You do?"

"You. . .thought I wouldn't?"

Kate watched the dip of a crape myrtle branch in the slight breeze, brushed a stray flower pod from his suit. "I - I kinda assumed I'd wear my mother's ring."

"That's an engagement ring. I bought you a wedding ring, Kate. To wear them together."

Oh. Oh yes. Together. One came first, but they belonged together. "You did?"

"Wanna see?"

She nodded, stepping back as he fished in his inside jacket pocket. He made a face as he moved, and Kate wondered how long he could stand upright under the pain before it got to him.

"How's the shoulder? And is that the real reason why you're not wearing the sling?" She gestured with her head towards the gazebo and it's cameras.

"Yeah. Alexis still doesn't know I was shot," he said quietly, then found what he was looking for and brought it out.

She watched him fumble the blue jewelry box, but she didn't offer to take it from him. After a second, he popped the top and she peeked inside.

A titanium band, just like his, only much thinner, made for her finger. The edges held scrollwork, a language or rune she didn't understand. Castle pulled it out of its velvet bed and held it out to her.

She took it, made a fist around it before she could look at it up close.

"I engraved it. Look and see."

Kate bit her bottom lip, watched him intently for a moment - it was nearly *time* - and opened her hand. The titanium ring was so thin, delicate looking, and yet so very strong. She tilted it to let the morning light stream across the inside of the band.

_no matter the date ~ love always _


	20. Chapter 20

Rick Castle knew that, of today, there would be little he remembered past two of the most overwhelming and powerful sensations: that of Kate's eyes on his, and that of the torture of his body.

He wasn't sure how they'd managed to come to this so quickly. Not the marriage, that of course had felt like forever, an interminable distance comprised of doubt and poor timing. No, it was the ceremony itself that he couldn't keep hold of, couldn't hang on to. It slipped in and out of his brain like a fish flopping on the shore, dead and alive at the same time, doomed.

There was the moment she appeared at the end of the path, the limbs of willow trees bowing before her, a coronet of tiny, star-shaped cherry blossoms littering her hair. He held that moment clear and radiant in his mind's eye, but he couldn't grab at the before or after.

Instead of memory was pain; instead of being in the moment there was the jerk of agony through his jaw, a fish on a hook. He battled it each time, fought to come back, to answer the minister, to focus on Kate's face, the round slope of her shoulders, the glint of the chain around her neck.

There was the moment she lifted her left hand to his, laid it over his palm, and he slid her ring home. He repeated words he meant but couldn't fathom, keeping his gaze on her, knowing she knew and that was enough.

The raw, zealous ache deployed from his shoulder and out into the marrow, infiltrating, the terrorism of his body, angling into the heart of him, collapsing the buildings of his bones.

After so long of this, he realized he had a fever. He was on fire within and nowhere to jump, not even down.

And then he managed to catch the cool dark of her eyes on him, the balm of her fingers curled around his left hand. She let go only long enough to unclasp the chain from around her neck, and then she was sliding both rings off, dropping the chain to the wooden floor of the gazebo; it clattered and disappeared through a gap in the wood.

She gave him her mother's engagement ring and her right hand; he marveled at the unwavering strength of her arm against his fingers as he held her elbow, then slid the ring on her finger.

Then Kate's voice, low and choked, repeated the minister's vows, her hands so lovely and cool against his, the ring she'd carried next to her heart now encircling his finger.

He'd had plans for today; he'd arranged things. But not this. Not the rippling pulse that coursed through him with every pounding beat of his heart. Not the agony of movement, not the metallic taste of blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten through his cheek trying to just keep still.

Before the minister made a move to pronounce them, Kate was lifting to his lips, a confident kiss that sampled the hot interior of his mouth with the lick of her tongue. She rocked back and clutched his waist, but he knew it was for him and not her, knew she'd felt his tremulous hold over his control.

The minister put a hand out to each of them and Castle's knees nearly buckled from the grip. Kate stepped closer, letting him press against her side, and he could keep upright, stay standing just a moment longer.

Across from them, he saw the computer monitor and the crowd arrayed across the floor in the wedding party, his daughter front and center beside Lanie, the boys on the other side. He stood his ground, he grinned; the grin was real and relief-filled because here was Kate, his partner, his wife.

He fought fiercely to keep it together. Because he wanted to remember this next part, wanted to keep the look on her face forever.

The minister turned them and said, "May I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Beckett!"

The Skyped crowd broke out in a buzz of amusement, and Kate turned laughing eyes to him, her lips curling up. He grinned back, clear-headed and pain-dogged, but memorizing every moment of this right now.

The minister looked at him in confusion; he had asked, after all, before the ceremony to be sure and Castle had confirmed it. He shrugged off the minister's hand and nodded again, then leaned over to claim his wife's kiss.

She broke from him before he was finished and brought her mouth to his ear. "Let's find you a seat before you collapse, Castle."

He groaned, relief and arousal both, and cursed the hired killer who had shot him, who now kept him from doing to Kate Beckett all the things his soul longed to do.

He kissed her again, taking back her mouth, trying to prove something he didn't have the evidence for, and she saw through it again, declared it flimsy theory, and wrapped her arm around his waist to keep him standing.

He saw her as if from a distance, talking to people as they came to the camera and wished them well, congratulated them. Castle knew he had a goofy grin on his face that only occasionally degenerated into a grimace, but when his daughter got her turn in front of the computer, Kate gripped his knee hard and kept squeezing, her fingers gripping higher and higher.

It did the trick. He could smile and tease his daughter, compliment her dress as Kate added her own admiration. He could ask her about her one day of college, and her dorm, and if she'd met any new friends. He could be her father, and her not any the wiser, so long as Kate kept shocking his system.

And then the Skype link was ended and they were alone again. Castle sank to his knees at the threshold and leaned his good side against the frame of the gazebo, closing his eyes.

He felt Kate cradling his face, heard her calling his name a few times before he could rouse.

"Here, I'm here."

"That's it; I'm taking you to the hospital." She stroked his cheek with her fingers, feathered a kiss to his brow.

"No. No, I'm good. Just tired. The pain pills will help. And putting the sling back on. After pictures."

She shushed him with her fingers and shook her head. "No, Castle. No more. You gave me a beautiful wedding, and now you need to let me take you back to the hotel. Remember that bed? How good it felt? And I'll be right there with you."

He shivered, but this time it wasn't arousal, and he knew he was in trouble.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But let me. . .rest here a moment."

"Oh, God, Castle," she choked and turned her face away, swiping at tears. "You idiot. You never should have-"

"Hush. Let me rest here, Kate." His eyes were closed but he smiled at the thought that flickered through his brain. "Wife."

There was silence for a moment, and then he felt the wet touch of her lips at his ear. "And don't you dare make me a widow."

* * *

><p>Kate had the coordinator run down to the parking lot and get Sergio. With his help, they managed to get Castle back on his feet. The coordinator, Kathy, handed her the marriage license and she had to nudge Castle to get him to sign it; her own hand was shaky on the line, her signature like a forgery.<p>

Castle came back long enough to lean over her, pressing his hot forehead to hers, and kiss her again, his touch gentle and reverent. The photographer, who'd been taking pictures during the ceremony, managed to get a last one in right as Castle pulled away. The flash light up her eyes and she saw the dazzling joy rippling in Castle's gaze.

Sergio had brought the sling with him from the limo and now helped her gently wrap it back over Castle's trembling arm. Sweat had broken out on his forehead while they worked, and when the arm was stabilized again, the injured shoulder immobilized, Castle let out a long, shaky breath.

The chapel had made up a little bag, like a parting gift, which included a thumb drive of most of the photos, the marriage license and the expedited certified marriage certificate, the specialty case for her bouquet, and a dvd with video from the ceremony.

Sergio took the bag and Castle as well, and they began heading back for the limo. Apparently, there had been much more Castle had planned on them doing here, photos and a kind of private reception in the garden, but all she wanted to do was get him someplace safe, a place to lay down.

As the awkward threesome passed under the first of the willow trees, Castle stumbled to a stop and reached across his body to grab her wrist. "Wait."

"Castle? You need to-"

"Wait. Close your eyes," he said desperately, his palm hot against her skin.

"Castle." Her chest felt like it was filled with jagged edges. "Please. Just let us get you to the car."

She could feel the tension in every line of his body, a radiating sense of hardened control that was finally coming to an end. "Close your eyes, Kate. Close them. For the magic."

She pleaded with him silently but he was either too stubborn or too intent to see it. He released her wrist and brought his hand to her cheek, brushed his thumb over her eye so that her lid closed.

"Please, Kate. Please keep your eyes closed."

Because he wanted it to stay this way, beautiful. How could she tell him that watching the struggle on his face throughout the ceremony was tortuous? The struggle between joy and pain, between staying with her in the moment and being lost to the agony.

She couldn't tell him that. So she closed her eyes.

A ragged breath of thanks against her cheek and then Sergio led them both back to the limo, calling directions softly when Castle couldn't manage it.

But she kept her eyes closed, even after she was back in the limo, because he was right. It had been magic, and they needed a little magic right now.


	21. Chapter 21

Castle rode a wave of nausea that buffeted him to the shores of consciousness, leaving him sprawlingly awake, blinking his eyes at a sea of dark hair.

"Kate?" But his voice was dry as driftwood and he had to take a painful swallow. He shifted and turned his head, wincing at the seasick effect of movement, but didn't recognize the place. "Kate." She was asleep beside the bed, her head against his hip, her hair undone and falling over his stomach. She was on his good side, so he could lift his hand and touch her cheek.

She stirred under his hand, then jerked upright, blinking at him. Her hair tumbled around her face. A line creased her cheek, eyeliner smudged below her eye.

"Castle." She sat up a little, leaning closer, and he saw she was still in her gown, wrinkled now and stained. She took his hand and squeezed it.

"What. . .am I in the hospital?"

She nodded and rubbed at her eye, swiped at the line of mascara, but he saw instead the way she was rubbing away tear tracks.

"What happened?"

She tilted her head, glanced down at her dress. "You don't remember?"

He grunted. "You finally made an honest man of me." He lifted his lips to smile at her.

Relief made her shoulders dip; she raised her hands to her face. He tried to touch her again, but she was too far away.

"Kate. I need you closer," he whispered.

She moved immediately, sliding up beside him in her dress and pressing her face to his chest, her knee drawn up next to his thigh. He managed to bring his arm up to circle her shoulders, realized that there was a decidedly delicious lack of pain.

"I'm sorry. I wanted it to be-"

"Shut up, Castle," she said against his shirt, and he heard in her voice that she was trying not to cry.

"Kate?"

"It was perfect; it was fine. You did good. Shut up."

He shut up. He let her lay against him, drawing aimless circles across the skin of her back, along the shifting silk of her dress as she fought to keep from crying. He remembered the look on her face and tried to give her time, but his drugged curiosity was running wild, and he hoped distraction might help her as well.

"What happened, Kate?"

She lifted up to meet his eyes, reaching out to brush the hair off his forehead. It flopped back and she finally gave him a ghost of a smile.

"In the limo. . .you passed out."

He wasn't surprised, but he saw there was more. He waited, his hand at her knee, stroking through the fabric of the dress, warm and smooth.

"You had a seizure. I couldn't. . .And then you threw up." She shifted her eyes to the empty bed in the room, swiped at the cheek he couldn't see. "A few times."

Castle squeezed her knee, wished he knew how to apologize for that. "Fever?"

She nodded. "Took you to the ER. They wouldn't. . .anyway. Febrile seizures. An infection at the site of the wound. You're better now. They want to keep you overnight."

"Time is it?"

"Four something," she said, moving like she was going to get up and check.

"No, stay," he said, clutching at her knee.

She stayed, a hand coming to his thigh to trace the lines of the thin blanket over him.

"Lay down with me."

She did, reclaiming her place at his chest, her knee up. Stains on her dress, he remembered, and winced.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispered, lifting her head.

"No. No, nothing hurts. It's good stuff." He waved his hand slowly where the IV was attached. His shoulder didn't even twinge. "Can't feel that."

"Stop it," she said, reaching over his waist to capture his hand, to make it still. She laced her fingers through his, clung to his hand. He could feel her arm across his stomach, the slight weight of it, and against his good shoulder, the shape of her cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says again, sighing. "This isn't where I wanted us to be tonight."

"This is exactly where I want *you* to be," she muttered. "Stay put for once, Castle."

He wanted to ask if that meant she'd stay put for once too, but he couldn't. He couldn't ask because he knew they were out here to find this contact of Montgomery's, to lift Pandora's lid on her mother's murder in the form of that bank safety deposit box. He wouldn't beg her to sit at his bedside.

Oh but he wanted her too.

"Where are you going to be?" he said finally, thinking maybe he shouldn't push her, not after all that.

"What do you mean?"

"What's first? Bank or run down this guy?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

Wait, what? She hadn't thought about it?

"Has Jordan called?"

"Castle," she grunted and tried to carefully shift positions beside him, lifting her head. "I don't want to talk about Jordan."

Okay. "Will the bank-"

"Shut up, Castle," she growled, then leaned in and captured his lips hotly, silencing him.

* * *

><p>When Castle had fallen back asleep, Kate slid off the bed and stretched her neck, tried to work the kinks out of her muscles. At least her hands had stopped shaking, her stomach had settled again.<p>

When she couldn't get Castle to wake up. . .

No good thinking about it now. Now she had to decide what to do. Jordan would be taking over the case in a matter of hours; as Shaw's agent, it would be up to Beckett to investigate the leads.

Alone. Castle would be here; she wouldn't let him leave the hospital, no matter what he said.

He was right about one thing, though. She should've called Agent Shaw by now, figured out where they were on taking over this case. Since Powell had opened that safe and Kate had drawn out the key taped to the card, she'd thought of nothing else but getting to Vegas, opening up whatever was in Box 308.

It occurred to her now that it was possible the box wasn't Montgomery's at all, that it might, in fact, be the man's whose name was on the card taped to the key. A business card for Craddock Bank with the name Mike Russo-

But the name had sounded familiar, from newspaper articles around the time her mother had been shot. She'd thought the guy might even had mafia ties, especially since he'd retired to Vegas. *If* it was the same guy. She hadn't been able to locate Mike Russo's name again, with her limited resources, limited time.

She should've called Shaw.

Kate stumbled over to where their things lay in a heap on the hard, plastic couch under the window. Sergio had gone back to the villa and gathered their bags; they hadn't even unpacked. She dug through the box that held the clothes she'd changed out of in the boutique, found her phone.

It was off; she'd forgotten that.

Her ring clanked against the screen and she paused, bent over the bag, watching the fluorescent lights bounce off the metal. She had to look over at the bed once again, reassure herself that he was just asleep, still breathing.

She called Shaw.

"Where have you been?" was her sharp greeting.

"Had my phone off."

"Well, you need to get your ass on a plane and get back here, Agent Beckett."

Kate sat down hard on the couch, dropped her forehead to her hand. "What do you mean?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

"Mary Montgomery's filed a police report, Beckett. Do you know why?"

A police report? "Why?"

"She had a break-in at her home. The safe was open; she says she knows there were things in that safe, but she doesn't know what. CSU found a partial on the inside of the safe door."

No. That wasn't how they'd left it; Powell was entirely too careful for that, too clean, too good. She'd had her ever-present blue crime scene gloves on; Powell his own gloves. They'd shut the safe door; there should be no traces.

"What are you talking about?"

"Partial matched the prints we have on file for you, Agent Beckett."

"But I didn't-" But she had. Not those prints, not that time, but she had.

"I am lobbying hard for you here, Beckett, trying to convince them that you were Montgomery's friend; he was your mentor. There are lots of reasons why your print might still be on that safe door."

Kate fought for breath, closed her eyes to squeeze out the image of her Captain bleeding on the sidewalk in front of his own home. "That wasn't me," she said carefully.

"When you get back to the city, we will have a conversation about your new leads, and where they came from, and perhaps give you a refresher course on the 'fruit of the poison tree' theory."

There was no way to redeem this. She had stolen evidence from her Captain's safe and then spirited to Vegas as if there was nothing wrong with it, as if she could use FBI resources at her own whim, whenever she wanted, and now she might have ruined their chances of getting justice for Montgomery.

"And after I thoroughly ream you out, Agent Beckett, you will report for probationary duty in Cleveland on Monday."

So she still had the weekend. "Agent Shaw. . .I can't leave today."

"The hell you can't-"

"Castle -" She had to swallow past the cold ball of desperation in her throat. "Castle followed me out here. His bullet wound got infected; he's in the hospital here in Las Vegas."

Shaw was silent on the other end, and Kate hung her head, tried to quell the rising panic that threatened to flood her whenever she thought about leaving Castle in a hospital in Vegas, alone.

"As soon as he's mobile, you get your ass back to New York," Shaw said, then ended the call without another word.

Kate hunched her shoulders and dropped her phone beside her, pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Tried to think.

There was nothing *to* think. Without the FBI's resources on this one, Kate had very little recourse. She couldn't walk into a bank with a key and demand to be allowed to see it. She might be able to track down Russo, but she had a sinking feeling that Russo was a man who might not want to be found.

And if he was found, *when* he was found, he wouldn't submit to questioning without a fight.

She just wasn't up to a fight today. Not today, not tomorrow.

"Kate?"

She jerked her head up and saw that Castle was awake again; the pain medication must be wearing off. They'd wanted to give him an anticonvulsant, and it had been Kate they'd turned to for permission. Since febrile seizures rarely occurred in adults, Beckett hadn't known what to do.

She'd told them no, despite the terror she'd felt in the back of the limo, watching him go stiff, his eyes roll back. She'd told them no because she just didn't know enough. . .didn't know what he was allergic to or how his family reacted to fevers.

And she'd been right, it seemed. No damage, no need for anti-seizure medication. Just antibiotics for his infection, a little pain killer, and he was smiling at her again.

"Kate."

She stood and felt the dress flutter around her body, the silk now sticky with her sweat and damp from the soap and water where she'd tried to clean out the worst of it.

He raised his arm and it hit the bedside railing, fell back to the waffle-patterned blanket. Kate stepped forward and cradled his hand in hers, trying to ignore the rush of indignant and desperate need. Need to move, to get this solved, to figure out who was doing this to her. To fix *something.*

"What's happened?" he said finally.

She shook her head. "Mary filed a police report on a break-in. My. . .my fingerprint's been found inside the safe-"

"Oh, God, no. Kate-"

"Shaw's got my back. At least to the NYPD. But. . ."

"How could Powell-"

Kate squeezed his hand as Castle's face clouded. "Not Powell. No. We didn't leave a trace. We closed the safe door. Everything as it should be. But someone came in behind us. Set me up."

She could see by the look on his face that he didn't like this, didn't like where this put her.

"I'm supposed to fly back to the city ASAP."

He looked crushed and she shook her head at him, leaning in to brush a kiss over his warm forehead.

"I told Shaw no. However long it takes, Castle."

He gripped her hand harder. "You should get back. You might. . .might need a lawyer, Kate."

"I'm not leaving. Not now." Something dark stole over his face; Kate watched his eyes lose their light.

"The bank. The guy. . .Russo? You still haven't found them."

Kate closed her eyes and tried to battle against that wound, his distrust, his certainty that she would always put her mother's murder before him.

But she didn't know how to fight it with words. Only by being here, showing up. "No. I haven't. As soon as the doctors release you, we'll get on a plane for New York. I'll do damage control then."

"And Russo?"

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, struggled agains the tug of grief in her gut, then had to fight off the instinctive pull of the mystery, of discovery, the cool and sweet temptation of having answers.

Maybe she would keep putting her mother's case before him. It seemed destined. She couldn't escape it; the need was like a hungry beast battering at her.

Hopelessness welled up, spilled over her eyes. She angrily smeared them away, twisted her hand out of his so she could swipe at her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he was murmuring, straining to reach her. She kept backing away. "We'll get him, Kate. It may take a little more time, but we'll get him. We'll find the guy setting you up and we'll-"

"Shut up, just. . ." She shook her head and swallowed hard, eyes lifted so she didn't have to see him. "I don't care about that right now. I don't - Castle, I watched your lips turn purple, your whole body go rigid, the fever practically broiling your body. I had to make decisions about your treatment, damn it, and I don't even know if you can take sulfa drugs or if you have a history of heart disease-"

She felt his arm hook around her waist and tug; she stumbled to a stop and glanced to the ceiling for space, her heart choking her.

"I'll shut up. I promise. Just - just look at me."

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes again, swallowing hard until the urge to fall apart receded somewhat.

"Kate, please."

She nodded, dropped her hands. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not." He lifted his hand and rested it against the bed railing so he could run his fingers over her belly, soft and light. "Crawl in here with me? I'll scoot over. I want. . .want to have you with me."

Her throat burned; she sucked in a shaky breath and tried to keep her heart going steady. She watched him carefully adjust his body over, using his good elbow to slowly maneuver. When he was mostly on one side of the bed, Kate gave it up and crawled in with him.

The dressed rucked up over her knees as she slid under the covers; Castle startled at the feel of her bare legs against his, but snaked his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek, her temple, the side of her mouth.

"We'll go over my medical history later, okay?"

She snorted and closed her eyes, desperately holding back hysteria. This wasn't her normal self; Kate Beckett was stronger than this, better than this.

"Hey, Kate. You've been running top speed for half a year. It's okay to rest. Just need for awhile. Need sleep or food or me. . ."

She did laugh at that, softly, and found that her body was relaxing almost against her will.

"That's more like it. Since I'm out of commission, you may as well be too, right?"

She nodded against his shoulder and lifted her head to kiss the side of his jaw, letting her lips linger along his skin. Her hand stroked a slow line down his chest, fingers brushing his belly button as she teased his mouth open, sucked lightly on his top lip.

"Ah - Kate-" he breathed and turned his head into hers, his cheek pressed to hers, his breathing rapid. "Kate - I want - want-"

"Sorry, sorry, hush," she murmured. "Hush." She put both hands to his cheeks, kissed him lightly on the chin, the jaw, her lips pressed together, chaste. When he gentled, she let her hands stay at his neck, curled into him, stopped humming.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love this even when it kills me."

"I'll try not to let it kill you," she whispered back, and kept him close.


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm boooored," he whined from the bed, watching her.

Kate lifted her head from her phone, frowning at him. She sat on the plastic couch, her back against the wall, her feet stretched out along the shiny surface. "You should sleep."

"My shoulder is itchy."

"Just rest, Castle."

"It itches in the bones. Deep. I can't get to it."

"That's the drugs."

"I feel fine. Can't they let me go?"

"Overnight observation," she insisted, shaking her head at him. "I don't want you to have another seizure."

"But I'm good. No fever. No pain. Just really really bored. Wanna come back over here and distract me?"

He grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His face was still too pale, and his hair had that waxy look of too much time in a hospital.

"Distracting you wasn't such a hot idea, remember?"

"I can take it now," he said, giving her a stoic look, remaking his smile into a frown of seriousness. "Let me have it."

She finished up her email to Esposito and dropped her phone to the couch. Kate gave Rick a long, assessing look, then slowly slid her feet to the floor and turned to face him. She saw Castle swallow hard, his mouth dissolving into a smile.

How could she resist?

Kate sauntered over to him, remembering the look on his face when she'd walked out in this dress. She let her fingertips skim the sides of her thighs as she got closer, holding his gaze.

His mouth fell open as she came; he lifted a hand like he was going to touch her as soon as she got within reach.

Kate stopped just short, pursed her mouth at him to keep from smiling.

"You can take it?" she said, adopting that low tone he always responded to.

No different tonight; his eyes widened, his hands made fists at his sides.

"You couldn't handle me, Rick Castle."

"But soon?" he grinned, still eager despite her warning.

Kate leaned in, capturing the wrist of the hand that reached for her, drawing it away. She brushed her mouth across his cheek, breathed hotly on his ear. "Soon enough."

He broke her grip without her even realizing, and then his hand had snagged her neck and he was dragging her to meet his lips, his kiss insistent and sloppy; for all that he assured her that he was fine, he still had pain killers in his system.

She let him attempt to devour her, then put her hand to his uninjured shoulder and pushed up, easing away. "Find your own distractions now, Castle."

"But you're the good kind. The best kind. I want more of you," he answered immediately, then blinked in surprise, as if he was unaware that his mouth was going to say those things.

She let him see the grin that broke through her reserve, and then dropped the sultry look to lean over and kiss his forehead, brush a hand down his cheek. "Later. Right now, I really want you to try to rest as much as you can." She was amazed at how precious this felt between them, both how fragile and how thriving.

"This honeymoon sucks," he whined. Castle grabbed her hand and tugged her back towards him. "At least get up here with me, keep me company while I sleep."

She rolled her eyes. "Castle-"

"I'll even let you play Angry Birds on your phone and I won't try to play it for you. Just play next to me."

"I wasn't playing Angry Birds."

"Oh. Cut the Rope?"

"No. I was emailing Esposito. I want him to keep an eye out, let me know if anything changes. And what he's heard about the break-in."

Castle sighed. "You really should at least attempt to track down this guy, Kate. We've come all this way. Montgomery-"

"Castle, stop."

"Look. This is our first good lead on what's going on here. I mean, come on, Kate. Lockwood shot Montgomery rather than let him spill his secrets. On Monday you're supposed to be in Cleveland, and when will you get a chance like this again?"

She debated, bringing her hand to her mouth to chew on a nail. On her fingers, she tasted the caustic anti-bacterial scrub they'd given her after Castle came through the ER, and she dropped her hand, crossing her arms instead.

"I know that look, Kate Beckett. You want to solve this. You want to find this guy."

"I have no resources," she fumed. "No place to start."

"Call the bank."

"It's five o'clock."

"Can't you get the manager at home or something?"

"And say what, Castle? I'm an FBI Agent on probation and would you mind letting me see the contents of box 308? No, I don't know who owns it. No I don't have a warrant."

He sighed and Kate realized she was actually waiting to hear his next idea, eager for it, needing it. Something, she just needed something. She didn't want this trip to have been wasted.

Apart from the wedding, she hastily amended.

"You have his name. At the very least, Google it."

Kate cast a backward glance to her phone, couldn't see the harm in just doing a general internet search. Right?

"Get your phone. Come crawl back in bed with me."

She shot him a look, but it hit her then that he was her husband. Damn. She'd married Castle.

Oh, Kate Beckett was *married.*

Kate scooped up her phone and then came back to his bed, feeling a little childish as she crawled under the covers with him, a little bit like a girl playing dress-up in her wedding dress and her still unfamiliar wedding ring. Castle expelled a long breath out as she settled beside him, leaning back next to him against the raised head of the bed.

"Google it."

"I am, hold your horses," she groused, putting her phone in front of them. Castle leaned his head against hers, ostensibly to see better, but when she lifted her hand and patted his cheek, he hummed, turned to kiss her palm.

"Mike Russo," he murmured, saying it aloud as she typed it into the google search box. "You know, that name rings a bell. I just don't know from where. . ."

"For me too," she said, adding NYPD to her search on a gut feeling. "I'm wondering if it's a mob - oh-"

The search results were up. The top three were about Captain Mike Russo's joining the force, his arrest for assault, and his domestic violence charges. Castle whistled next to her ear and wrapped his arm around her to grab the phone, tilting the screen.

"That could be promising."

"You think Roy knew this guy?" she asked, tapping on a link to have it open. While it slowly loaded, she thought back. "I don't remember Montgomery saying anything about a Mike Russo. What about the archived files? Anything in there?"

"Maybe that's where I remember his name from, but I don't know. Maybe I *am* brain damaged after that seizure."

"That's not funny."

"It is a little."

She glared at him, fighting a strange panic at the thought of him being damaged at all. "Not funny."

Castle wriggled the phone in her grip; she let the search distract her from the terrible feeling that wanted to swallow her up.

"Says here Russo was arrested at his residence when neighbors called the police."

"Domestic violence," he added.

"Hmm, charges were dropped. And then this one. . .oh."

"What?" Castle tilted the screen again and read over her shoulder.

"These entries all kinda jump around, so the timeline might be screwed, but it looks like Russo was brought up on charges again, assault this time while making an arrest, and then. . .got a job in DC. At the Capitol building."

"What's he do there?"

"This is. . .all about him leaving his job as a District Director with Homeland Security to take a position with. . .Congressman Gilland."

"Doing what?"

"Doesn't say. And I can't be sure this is the same guy. Mike Russo? Pretty common name in New York, right?"

"Go to the next page of results," he urged, moving his thumb over the screen and doing it for her. "I get the best finds sometimes by digging a few pages deep."

That sense Kate had earlier came rising up again now. "There's something I'm not remembering about this guy. I know it's there-"

"He's on a list of the Fallen," Castle said softly. "NYPD Captain Mike Russo."

A chill swept over her and she lifted a hand to her forehead, massaging her temple. "Could be a different guy."

"Could be," he said, but he didn't sound sure.

"No, no, wait a second," she said and took the phone back. She refined her search again and four or five newspaper articles came up.

"Gambino crime family," he read over her shoulder.

"He was a cop. Brought up on charges of extortion and money laundering for the mob. Protection racket, right? That was right before I joined the 12th. The Gambino family mostly went down, lots of arrests."

"You think this is the guy?"

"I know it is. Because they were all still talking about him, only no one did it in front of Montgomery. Made me think they knew each other. Not only that, charges never stuck to the guy. He was released and he got a job in Washington, in Customs. We all thought that was grimly funny. Has to be this same Russo leaving his District Director job in 2006."

"He went from Gambino henchman to Customs to Homeland Security then? But this is *not* the same guy they got the domestic call for, who died in 9-11?"

Kate shrugged. "Well, he's not dead. The domestic call could be the same. You know cops; they tend to look the other way on stuff like that."

"Still?"

"Well, not now maybe. But then? Sure. Late 90s."

"That's no excuse," he muttered, then turned and brought his lips to that spot under her ear, hummed against her skin. She shivered, brought her hand up to hold him there, eyes slipping closed.

"I don't know what this tells us," she said softly, the phone falling from her fingers.

"It tells us that some men have no idea how to appreciate their wives," he murmured, his lips hot against her skin.

Ripples of awareness trickled through her body; she couldn't move. Could only sit at his side, feel the insistent thrum of need build in her, called into being by his mouth, the slide of his warm hand along her waist.

He kneaded her belly; her hips rocked forward. She clutched at his arm, her eyes open wide. Suddenly it was imperative that she move, she turn to him, join the fray.

Kate slid a thigh over his as she turned, met his lips with the brutal urgency of her mouth.

He was appreciating the hell out of her.


	23. Chapter 23

"Did I hurt you?" she murmured.

Castle laughed. "No." Quite the opposite. No way to explain to her what that was like, what watching her come apart did to him.

"Sure?"

"Kate, I'm good. Real good." He was also exhausted, and floating with whatever drugs were in his system, so that even though her body was heavy against his, still round and melted into him, she barely anchored him to reality.

He used his non-injured hand to stroke her side, the places he could reach and she shivered under him, reached down to still his hand, her heartbeat so forceful it was rattling them both.

Every now and then, he could feel her twitch, as if her body was remembering. If he weren't so wiped out, he'd be grinning like an idiot.

Best yet.

"Gonna fall asleep," he muttered, hating it, not able to stop.

"Good," she whispered back, clearing her throat. Sexy.

Sexiest sound ever out of her mouth (because it was Castle who had made her sound like that, like she wasn't able to gather herself back together), only he was about to pass out with this woman draped all over him. So not fair.

She still had his hand trapped in hers. "Give me a chance to recover here, Castle."

He groaned and tried to open his eyes against the heavy darkness; he wanted to see the face that went along with the voice, look again into those eyes that just admitted she needed to recover. Recover.

"Sleep, Castle."

"Don't wanna. . ."

Her lips went to his eyelids, warm, but leaving faint impressions, cool and damp, as she withdrew.

He wanted to tell her to go. Go to the bank, go make them let her in the vault, see the box. Go get answers.

But his brain was shutting down, already, his body too heavy to let him speak.

* * *

><p>Well, this wasn't the wedding night she'd expected, back in Quantico with the ring on a chain around her neck. She'd had vivid, intense dreams in the deepest part of the night, a combination of stress and bone-crushing exhaustion, her brain still alert and firing, but her body unwilling to go on.<p>

Dreams that had left her mouth dry and her heart pounding, soaked in sweat. Dreams she had never remembered but which had left her feeling. . .touched.

Wedding night.

In a hospital in Las Vegas, in a dress now completely ruined which she would never, in a thousand years, ever consent to throwing out. She should, however, change her clothes.

She didn't want to move. Castle was a warm strength under her, his arm loose now that he'd fallen asleep, his face unlined again. She let the sheet and the thin blanket fall back down to her waist as she lifted up, her elbow beside his head, fingers combing his hair, studying him.

She liked the flat planes of his cheekbones, the way his eye sockets were carved out, like a face in a cliffside. His lids masked the heart-stopping glint of amusement usually there. One eye seemed to squint smaller than the other when he was really laughing; she had a flash of memory, his face in the precinct, so joyful as he came up with another silly theory, that crooked-faced smile. Was it the right eye? She'd have to check later, have to memorize the look just like he memorized hers.

Her fingers caught on his jaw.

Kate shivered and dropped her head to the sheet with an embarrassed flush, but turned towards that jaw and let her lips glance across the wide, strong bone. He hadn't shaved in a few days (like the day they met, rugged and fresh-out-of-bed looking). This was what it felt like then, to be this close, to have his skin scrape hers.

She needed to change her clothes. She needed to get off of him so that he really could heal, no matter what he said about it. It couldn't possibly be good for him. And when he had pushed up-

Kate slid off the bed, stumbling because her legs were still jelly, deliciously so, and put a hand out to the railing to steady herself. She blinked and glanced over her shoulder, but Castle - Rick, oh, wow, _Rick_ - he was still asleep.

Her heart was pounding again. Ridiculous. She wasn't like this; this wasn't her.

Kate moved automatically toward their bags, pulling out jeans and a tshirt. Clean underwear. A bra. Her hands were steady, and that actually surprised her.

She'd almost lost him twice. Over this. This stupid, relentless pursuit of justice.

Was it justice? She wasn't sure anymore.

Clutching her clothes, Kate watched his chest rise and fall slowly on the bed, a finger twitch, an eyelid flicker. Her husband. Hers.

And what was she doing to him?

Except leading him into danger.

* * *

><p>Castle wished there was a clock set up somewhere he could see it. He hated waking up disoriented; there was only darkness out the window, a darkness made cheap and neon by the Strip.<p>

He wanted Kate. Wanted to finish what they'd started, even though the painkillers would probably keep that from happening. Again. Still, he'd like to try, watch Kate clutch his arm and shudder, her eyes closed, her mouth open, her head tossed back against his chest.

The names of his night shift nurses were on the white board behind his head; he craned his neck to check: Hope and Cici. And look at that. A clock; he squinted an eye to read it at the awkward angle, and realized it was nearly eight.

Huh. Where was Kate?

Actually, he hoped that Kate had checked out that deposit box. He didn't know how she might do that, but she could always think of-

Oh. Kate. There she was. Beautiful and smiling at him. Her hair was curled this time, all of it let loose from the bun she'd had it in during the wedding.

She walked back through the door with a brown paper bag in her hands, tshirt and jeans on. "Hey there, Sleeping Beauty."

He grinned and tucked his left leg under his right knee, giving her space on the bed. "What are you then? Prince Charming?"

"I can be charming," she teased, dropping the bag onto the bedside table and sliding carefully onto the bed. "I brought you dinner."

His stomach growled like a mountain lion, and Kate laughed, patting his thigh. Her wide open smile, the pink tongue he could just see, the joy and maybe even love that made her whole face light up-

"You're just so beautiful," he said, stunned by it.

Kate, arrested in mid-laughter, closed her mouth and stared at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She pressed her lips together, not the bad kind, but the good kind: the almost smile kind.

He shrugged at her. "What?"

"I just. . .was thinking the same thing."

"You were thinking about how beautiful you are?"

She might have been blushing; she tended to make that face when she was embarrassed. . .

"I meant-" Kate leaned in and grabbed the bag of food. "I meant that I was thinking that about you."

He knew he had the incredulous smile on his face, mouth open, but still. She just - she said - she was thinking the same?

"You were thinking what exactly?"

She chewed on the inside of her lip and opened the bag, pulling out food, ignoring him.

"Oh. . .I'll let you off the hook if you give me that burger."

She slid a smirk his way and her hair fell like a curtain over her cheek, her left eye. Castle reached out and brushed it back, his thumb landing at her ear. He didn't know what kind of face that was, one he'd never seen before, but it was. . .cute.

Kate was stoic. Kate was beautiful. Kate was hardly ever just. . .cute.

She ducked away from his hand. "I was watching you sleep."

He gaped at her.

"Like you watch me," she added with an arched eyebrow.

He grinned. "Yeah. We even?"

"Not even close."

"Can I have my burger now?"

She handed it over, smirking at him, and he unwrapped the best-smelling burger he'd ever laid eyes on. Kate was laughing at him again, and then there were fries being passed his way too.

"Ohhhh, I knew marrying you was a good idea."

"Because I'm willing to feed you?"

"Um. Yes?" He took a huge bite, felt his jaw pop, and chewed slowly. Kate was making a face at him. "And-" he swallowed. "And because you love me."

"You marry every girl who falls in love with you?"

He choked on a fry and put a hand to his mouth. The way she sounded oh-so-casual about that. "Do you want an honest answer to that?"

She slapped his good shoulder and crossed her legs at the foot of his bed, her food between them. "So."

"Buttons."

"Buttons?"

"Sew buttons. Something my mother says. Never mind." He waved her off and chewed his burger.

"How'd you know?"

"How'd I know what?" Castle frowned at her and sucked salt off his thumb.

"How'd you know I was in love with you?"

"Uh. You told me."

She shook her head, lifting her eyes to meet his, her hair once again falling forward. "I meant. . .before that. Before I said anything. You must've known, Castle. Because you were very confident."

He opened his mouth to deny it, then realized she'd figured something out; she was carefully fishing for more information.

Castle squinted at her, pretending to think back, but he knew. He had the moment emblazoned in his memory.

"Castle," she prompted. Like he was a witness. Or a suspect. Eek.

"When you said you'd break me out of jail."

She tilted her head and pushed her hair back behind her ear. "That was. . .I was dating Josh." She looked like she was ready to call bullshit on him.

He shrugged. "That's when I knew. You'd break me out of jail."

Castle saw her jaw work, her mouth set in that confronting hardness. But then she dropped it and gave him a short nod.

Was that confirmation? "Really?"

She shot him a look.

"I knew it!" Castle grinned widely and fist-pumped. Where were the boys when you needed to feed the birds?

"Shut up."

"Awesome."

"It was more like. . ." Kate waved her hand around as if that might help her.

"You were in love with me."

"Shut up. At least I didn't follow you around like a puppy dog."

"You could have. I'd have been okay with that." Castle ignored the insult. "Also, I was in love with you from day one, but you kept putting me off."

"You were not. You were in love with Nikki Heat."

He paused, thought about that a second, then had to give it up. "There might be some truth to that."

She smirked, then seemed to catch herself, putting her burger down and looking up at him.

"What?" he asked, for the second time that night feeling like she was looking at something that wasn't there.

"I *am* in love with you."

His mouth cracked wide into a pleased smile. "Yeah."

"And you know that."

"Don't I know it." He wriggled his eyebrows at her.

She frowned. "I'm being serious."

"So. . .so am I?"

"You can't let me. . .get away with less, Castle."

He didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't sure he knew what that meant. But she looked intense, as disturbed and frustrated as she'd been when she'd first told him about her mother's case.

"What am I supposed to be preventing here?"

She wrapped the rest of her burger and got to her knees on the bed, then came to sit beside him, settling in close. This way, he couldn't see her eyes and he wondered if she'd done that on purpose.

Her hand landed on his thigh and she squeezed.

Excellent trade off. He'd take it.

"Don't let me do stupid, selfish things that end up only hurting you. Because I don't want to hurt you, Castle."

This conversation was starting to sound suspiciously like a lot of break-up conversations sounded. If she said _it's not you it's me_ next, he'd scream.

"I don't think I follow."

"Like this, like today. You tried to get me to wait. You wanted me to have back-up, to be safe. Because you love me."

"Yeah." She was sitting on his good side, which made touching her easier; he put his burger back down and dropped his hand on top of hers. "Has that ever been in doubt?"

She shook her head. "I have to remember that. I can't run off to Vegas just because I want this guy so badly. There's you now."

He wanted to smile at her in gratitude for that sentiment, but she still looked too focused to be distracted, like she had something she had to say. Problem was, he didn't know if he agreed with this.

"Was there not me before?"

"What?"

"Being married shouldn't change who you are, Kate. If you gotta go after a guy, that's what you should do. That part of you I love just as much. You need to run down leads anywhere, I'm ready."

"Not when it means something like this will happen." She gestured to the hospital bed, and him in it. "You love me. And I have to take that into account now."

"You make it sound like it's a weakness." He frowned at her, his burger getting colder by the second over what amounted to a cleverly disguised put-down. Apparently, he made her a worse cop; he was her Achilles heel. Great.

"I must have said that wrong," she said softly, drawing her hand through the crook of his arm. She put her head against his shoulder and slid her palm down his forearm, as if remembering.

"You didn't say that so great, yeah. I'll agree with you there."

"Let me try again. I don't want you getting hurt just because I have issues. I don't want you landing in hospital beds all because I can't leave well enough alone. I have to take you into consideration, Castle, because *I* love you. Because you're mine."

Oh.

Oh, that made up for it.


	24. Chapter 24

Castle woke to sharp whip-crack of her voice, the hard edge of her cold fury like a shove.

"Stay right where you are."

He jerked, eyes wide, and consciousness rushed in.

Kate had her back to him, on her knees at the foot of his bed, arms raised in firing stance, her weapon pointed towards the door. A man. A man in the doorway.

Castle jerked upright, winced at the stiffness in his bones, tried to see past Kate's rigid form.

"Beckett," he hissed. She didn't turn, didn't acknowledge him, but he knew, he could tell by some current in the air or by some imperceptible difference to the set of her shoulders that she had heard him. She was aware now that he was awake. And ready to help.

He eased forward, avoiding the tubes and cords snaking around his body, put himself out of the man's line of sight. Castle slid his fingers to Kate's ankle, searching.

The man had his hands raised, but Castle didn't like the indifference on the man's face, the amusement.

"Might wanna put down the gun, Katie."

And Castle especially didn't like the familiar way the man said her name.

"Stay where you are. Don't move."

"I hear you're looking for me." And he slowly dropped his hands, his grin playing wider and wider on his face. No real mirth there.

Castle sucked in a breath even as his fingers found what they were looking for. "You're Mike Russo."

A dark look was sent his direction. Dark and cold. "Yeah. Katie I know. But who the fuck are you?"

Kate growled. "He's mine."

* * *

><p>She didn't want him here, didn't want to let him sit down in the chair under the mounted television, didn't want his calculating fish eyes on her husband. <em>Hers.<em>

Too easily taken from her.

The fierceness wasn't something she was familiar with, when it came to Rick Castle, and she didn't have any way to cope with it. She just toughed it out.

"Talk," she spat, her weapon at her side, but not at all relaxed. She was standing beside the hospital bed now, keeping it between her and Russo, just in case.

Castle was sitting up at least, looking relatively more aware and alert than she might have expected. She kept trying to calculate the plan of attack, what direction it might come from, where the deadly thrust might hit. She wasn't sure why she knew Russo did his best work with a knife's edge, but she did know it.

Special Forces, some not-all-the-way-dormant part of her brain supplied. Like Dick Coonan. Coonan and Russo with their knives.

"Heard about Montgomery. Figures I'd find you here not 24 hours later."

"What'd you hear?" Castle asked, just over her shoulder. She wished he'd stop attracting Russo's attention.

"Holier-Than-Thou took a bullet from. . .ah, I believe you called him Lockwood?"

Even though Kate knew that wasn't his name, that Lockwood was the alias he'd been using, it made her flinch to hear Russo throw that information back in her face. You'll never know all I know, he seemed to be saying. It was all she could do to ignore the way he spoke about her former Captain.

"Why are you here." Kate barked, a question and not a question. A demand for him to get this showdown over with already.

"I have things you need. You have things I need. Mutually beneficial partnership-"

"No."

Behind her, she felt Castle's knee nudge her hip, a slight pressure. It cleared her head for the instant she needed to stop reacting and think.

Think, Kate.

"What do you need?"

"Aren't you more interested in what you need?" Russo said, leaning back in the chair as if he had all the time in the world.

"What do you need?" she asked again, studying every flicker across his face. He had a plan; she could see it in his eyes, in the tension across his forehead. What was it? What would it mean for her, for Castle?

"I need freedom. Plain and simple. Hard to be free if you're dead. Hard to be free if you're under someone's thumb. You under a thumb, Agent?"

Agent. She hated him, hated this man with a furious bitterness that soured her mouth and made her stomach churn. He knew too much. He had the answers, held all the cards, and if it was just Kate, then she would test the limits of her guardian angel and broker a deal with this man, to know what he knew.

But it wasn't just Kate. It was also the man behind her.

"Under no one's thumb," she said, kept her voice neutral. "Whose thumb you under, Russo?"

"Used to be US Army Special Forces. I see you know that much. Was transferred to what they call the Special Activities Division-"

"CIA," Castle said. Kate could hear him moving behind her, finding a better position, but she didn't take her eyes off of Russo. "Coonan work with you?"

"You guessed it, Romeo. How's married life treating you?"

Kate squeezed the grip of her weapon and tried to avoid the sudden fragile sharpness that splintered in her guts. "You and Coonan and who else?"

Russo grinned, that same sick and twisted grin. A man who had seen terrible things and been a party to them, had set them spinning on their crazy, merry way. "The who else is for me to know. And you to never, ever find out."

"I'll never stop-" Kate choked off as the words turned to ash in her mouth, the warmth of Castle at her back. "You can't cover it up forever."

"Oh, sweetheart, we already have," he said, giving her that false sincerity, that slick and nasty smile. "You are too-everlasting late."

"So what are you here for?" Castle grunted. "What do you even want?"

"I want you to get the fuck out of Las Vegas. Off my trail, you assholes, and back to running in circles. You're ruining my cover."

"I'm not leaving here without-"

Russo was on her in a second, springing to his feet so suddenly that Kate had only time to half-raise her weapon. Russo was there, stepped inside her stance so that he had one crushing grip over her weapon, her fingers, and one at her throat, his teeth bared like a wild dog.

Castle was there a breath later, with her extra weapon he'd tugged from her ankle, the barrel snug against Russo's temple.

"Back off," Castle snarled.

Kate watched Russo's eyes on her, the dilating pupils, the flare of indignant anger at being outmaneuvered. His fingers squeezed at her neck, choking, and dropped away; he stepped back.

Kate edged back as well, kept Castle's weapon in her sight, her own at her side again.

"Apparently I underestimated the ball and chain here." Russo shot Castle a look that wasn't at all amused, so completely incongruous with his words that it made Kate's panic soar. "Won't do that again," he said softly. Too soft. Too calculating.

"Out," she hissed, her chest squeezing, voice raw with the feel of his fingers at her throat. "Get out."

"You first," he rasped back, narrowing his eyes at her. "This man you're looking for? He's looking for me as well. Ever heard of that saying, The enemy of my enemy is my friend? Well, guess what Katie Beckett? You got a friend."

"You are not my friend."

"Kate," Castle hissed.

"Get out." She felt panicky tears building in her eyes and didn't know what to do with them, what to do with the wave after wave of vulnerability she felt with this man behind her, this man she loved beyond all reason.

"You leave Vegas the moment Plucky Sidekick gets released, you hear me? You leave and you don't come looking for me ever again. I got nothing to do with Jo's death-"

Kate's insides twisted at hearing her mother's name from Russo's voice, so intimate, a nickname her father used. Like a name oft-spoken. "Don't you dare say her name. You shut the hell up-"

A fist in her shirt kept her from stupidity; Castle's fist. His bad arm. She stood still, shaking with rage.

"I liked your mom. Pulgatti liked your mom. It wasn't my idea to get her involved, that was all him. Like a sexy lawyer has a snowball's chance in hell of bringing this bastard down, no matter how smart-"

Her blood froze, from rage to brittleness in seconds. "The fuck you know-"

"Course I know. I know all of it, Katie. All of it. And the shit storm you are wading right into."

"Tell me. Tell me who it is and maybe I can help you-"

Russo's eyes were back on Castle; it made her heart pound. Russo stepped closer; Kate brought her weapon up even though Castle had not yet lowered his, one-handed though his grip might be.

Russo talked softly to Castle. "This is gonna fuck her up, my man. This is gonna wring her inside out before _He_ even gets a chance to touch her himself. And when he's through with her, if she's still alive, which I doubt, I really doubt, but if she is. . .she won't be yours any more. She'll be something else. Broken. Hollow. No good to anyone. Not _human_. You hear me, my man? He does shit we learned in the jungles, in the deserts, in the dark places no one wants to go. Not human."

Kate growled and pointed her weapon at Russo's head. "Now. Out of here. Right now."

Russo turned his lizard eyes to her. "You leave. You leave me out of this, you leave Vegas. And I'll give you something."

Despite herself, Kate leaned forward, wanting it, craving information.

"Lockwood's real name. You want it? Gives you a starting place, if you wanna keep running towards the Devil."

"The devil." She's pleased her voice can still scoff, what with the way her insides are shaking.

"You think you've been poking a Dragon? Who do you think the Dragon is but Satan himself? He ain't no red-horned devil. He's evil incarnate. He's the open mouth in your guts, Katie. Waiting to devour you."

Russo yanked something out of his pocket, his hand in a fist as he brought it close. Kate made no move towards it; Russo tossed it to the bed. Kate didn't take her eyes off the man.

"Agent. Soon as your plane lands in New York, you'll have Lockwood's name."

And then Russo was through the door, gone. Away. Her hand trembled; she couldn't turn to Castle and put the door at her back, she couldn't. The two of them waited in silence, watching the door. Her eyes peeled, frozen to the sliver of light coming in from the hallway.

Then Castle's hand was on her shoulder and she jumped.

"Kate," he whispered and his voice was strangled.

She did turn then, saw the slick sweat on his forehead, the pain he must've been in to hold the weapon up for so long, but he wasn't wincing in pain. He was holding the thing Russo had left on the bed.

It was her mother's business card. _Civil Rights Attorney._

Castle flipped it over, showed her the writing on the back in her mother's own hand.

_Mike. I told you so._


	25. Chapter 25

Her face crumpled; her hand came up and made a fist over her mother's card, pressed it to her chest. Castle hooked his good arm around her neck and pulled her against him, his lips to her temple.

"My mother-" she choked.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, not knowing what to say, knowing only that it was too much. It had been too much for the last six months, hounded out of the NYPD only to take up with the FBI in a job she wasn't sure she wanted. "We'll figure this out, Kate. Don't lose sight of the truth."

"What *is* the truth, Castle?" she moaned, keeping her face hidden.

"You know your mother, the woman she was, the wife and mother, the lawyer. You know her."

"Do I? Did I know anything about her? Look at how much you keep from Alexis. She doesn't even know you've been shot. What was my mother involved in, Castle? What bullet wounds was she hiding?"

Well, that was a low blow, but it made sense. Unfortunately.

"All right. Okay. You've made your point," he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. "Doesn't mean your mother's character needs to be called into question here, Kate. Protecting the people you love isn't wrong; it doesn't make your mother or me a bad person. And you know that."

She had her forehead against his good shoulder, a hand over her eyes as if she could block it all out. Her other hand was uncomfortably close to his bandaged chest, but he ignored it.

"Kate, that guy scared the shit out of me," he whispered.

She gave something like a plaintive laugh, part hilarity and part hysterics. "Me too. Scared me too." Kate straightened her spine and pulled away from him; her eyes were dry, but brittle.

"You okay?"

"We can't stay here, Castle," she said, her voice like steel. "I know you're in pain. I know we shouldn't. . .but we can't stay here where he can find us."

Castle swallowed the thick knot of dread that had tangled in him the moment he'd woken up to Kate's cold, hard voice, weapon in her hand. "I had that thought too. You - uh - you noticed how he was looking at you? He called you Katie."

She lifted concerned, troubled eyes to his. "I noticed how he was looking at *you*, Castle. When he said he wouldn't underestimate you again. Nice job, partner."

"It was - just - I don't know - instinct," he said, rubbing his hand over his chin. Actually, seeing that cold devil with his hand around Kate's throat had awakened a nasty, vengeful beast in his chest. He'd wanted, so badly, to pull the trigger on Russo. "But I don't like that he knows exactly where we are."

She shook her head. "You think you can make a flight home?"

To his shame, he felt that flicker of fear struggle up; the idea of getting back on a plane and letting the stressors of gravity and take-off push and pull at his body was less than attractive. To say the least.

Worse yet was the idea of falling asleep in his drug-induced stupor, only to wake to a gunshot. Or an empty room and no Kate.

"I can make it," he said gravely. "You want to head back to New York?"

She jerked her head in agreement, crossed her arms over her chest. "I feel exposed here, sitting around. I want back our home field advantage."

And he knew Captain Montgomery's funeral would be soon. She'd been getting text updates from Ryan about it. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to lean into his still tender shoulder. Kate reached out to steady him, a hand at his thigh, another at his ribs.

"I'm good," he promised, but he wasn't even standing and he could already feel that wave of dizziness messing with his inner ear. Still. He pictured Russo's cold, dead eyes and managed to slide a foot to the floor.

Kate hovered close, the line creasing across her forehead as she concentrated on him. With his good hand, he reached out and smoothed his thumb over that line; it was a vein or a ligament, muscle, something. She looked at him, captured his hand, and stepped back to let him get up.

He could stand. "You wanna. . .combine our stuff? Just bring one suitcase with us on the plane. Not sure I can. . ." He gestured with his chin toward the bags on the plastic couch.

Kate looked past him, set her jaw. "Nothing I can't replace. I'll get the essentials. Got anything in there you need?"

Castle reached slowly for her left hand, squeezed her fingers until he felt her smooth ring against his palm. "Got this. All I need."

"The ring or me, Castle?" she said, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Ring and the girl too."

"The girl?"

"Dame?"

Another eyebrow.

"Femme fatale?"

He could detect just the traces of a smile there. "And what are you, Castle? The hardboiled detective?"

"I could go for that. But classic noir is just. . .too bitter and disillusioned for my taste."

"Of course. You like magic," she said softly. She headed for the bags, and he watched her pull out her ID, his wallet and keys. She rifled through, put a few other things in a little bag, including his mother's dopey pain pills, and the balled up remnants of her wedding dress, while he leaned against the side of the hospital bed, building up his strength.

She stuffed the dress into that bag - was it a cosmetics bag in its previous life? - and pushed everything else in after it. He was amused that she couldn't leave it behind; he'd seen it when he woke. It was definitely ruined.

"Got my phone in there somewhere?" he mumbled, closing his eyes for just a moment.

The next thing he knew, Kate was nudging him. "Sorry, Rick. Time to go."

He grunted, eyes flying open, and realized he might've just had a catnap. "Yeah," he said roughly, trying to blink the lethargy out of his blood. That encounter with Russo had gotten his adrenaline going, kept him alert, but now that the immediate threat was over, he was feeling rubbery, unstuck in time and space.

If he had a blue police box. . .

Castle shook his head slightly. Definitely still on meds.

"You still got my gun, Castle?"

"Yes."

"Can you keep it on you without accidentally firing it?"

"You wound me, Detective."

"No need for that. You're already wounded, Castle."

"It's in my pants."

The look on her face was worth it.

"Your weapon, Kate. It's in my pants. Oh," he blinked and laughed. "That didn't sound any better, did it? Let's see just how naughty we can make it sound-"

"Castle," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "Just stay on my six, all right?"

"If six is a euphemism for your tail, then I am-"

Kate pinched his ear and he grinned; it wasn't the twist she usually did, so it must mean she was making concessions to his injury.

"Lead on, Kate."

She had her weapon at her side, but she was being cautious as they cleared the doorway, painstakingly cautious as they crept down the hall. Or maybe she was just going slowly in deference to his shuffling steps. "You really think he's gonna stick around to get us?"

"No," she retorted. "But if *he* found us, who else will find us?"

A chill passed over him.

Since they had just come face to face with one of his henchmen, it seemed Satan himself could find them.

* * *

><p>Kate watched him lean back experimentally in the first class seat; he flinched but rested carefully, his eyes closed.<p>

She'd called Lanie the moment they'd bought their tickets and settled into the waiting area. Her friend hadn't been happy about interrupting Castle's steady IV of antibiotics, but agreed that he could, since their lives were being threatened, take a flight back to New York if he went immediately to the hospital from there.

Just to make sure her stubborn partner got the message, Kate had made Castle listen to Lanie's diatribe over checking out AMA, a full twenty-six minute rant about the dangers of interfering with treatment. Kate had taken the phone back when Castle's face looked sufficiently humbled.

Then Lanie had warned her to be vigilant about signs of shock: rapid heart rate, confusion, loss of consciousness, poor circulation, clammy skin, sweating, shallow respiration. If he looked like he was going into shock, she should get the flight attendant immediately; the plane would make a quick landing for a medical emergency.

Kate was trying not to think about that. She was watching Castle like a hawk, but so far half the signs of shock were there just because he was dealing with the newly awakened pain throbbing through his shoulder.

The stress of this flight alone might kill her, if it didn't kill him first.

After a moment, Castle's eyes slowly opened, focused. He turned his head to her and lifted his hand, his injured arm once more tightly bound to his side. Kate grabbed his hand and couldn't help kissing his knuckles, overwhelmed at the thought of losing him. Again.

"I'm good," he said. His voice had an edge to it she didn't like.

"You're good."

"Soon as the plane takes off. . .gonna have to lay down," he said. He hissed through a breath and blinked.

"Castle-"

"I'm good, Kate. Just - just acclimating myself to it." She could see his nostrils flare and then his eyes opened. She knew it was costing him, but he was trying to reassure her.

She unbuckled her seat belt and rose to her knees so she could lean over him. She studied his lined face until his eyes flickered open, then she pressed soft, feathery kisses to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the turned down corners of his mouth. "I love you," she whispered against his skin. "Tell me when it gets too bad."

"Nothing you can do," he said softly back. Just the thought of Castle suffering in silence, when that was just not Castle at all, when he liked to be the center of attention and moan and be a baby about it. It filled her chest with an ache so fierce she couldn't breathe.

Kate returned to his mouth, hunched over him in the seat, a hand on the window for balance. From some distance, she knew people were boarding the plane still, were gawking at her, but she needed him to know, needed him. Period.

Kate softly tugged on his lip with her teeth, came back to capture his mouth, sweep along his teeth with her tongue. He groaned softly and she broke the kiss with a grin.

"Nothing I can do?" she whispered, her words light and airy between them.

His finger hooked in her belt loop, keeping her there for a moment.

"I amend that statement," he said back, his eyes opening slowly. "Soon as we get in the air, you're gonna have to keep that up all flight long."

She grinned back at him. "Really? You're in a terrible amount of pain, then?"

"Terrible," he agreed. But she saw something in the back of his eyes; he was afraid. Of what? How much worse the pain could get, or something else?

"You're gonna be ok, Castle," she said gently, lifting her hand to stroke the side of his face with her fingers, brushing the hair at his temple.

"Not me I'm worried about," he said. He tugged on her jeans. "Keep your eyes open, Beckett."

She nodded back once, then quirked an eyebrow at him. "Isn't it Castle now?"

"Isn't what Castle-" His face cleared, a stunned hesitance set up residence. "Is it? I thought-"

"I did marry you, didn't I?"

"I - uh - think you did? Yes, yes, you did," he said hastily. "Did you sign the marriage license. . .Kate Castle?"

She smothered her smile at hearing his voice crack. "No."

"Oh."

"I signed it Katherine-" she leaned in to brush her lips along his forehead. "Beckett." She hovered over his lips, breathing softly, keeping him waiting. "Castle."

"Yeah?"

She smirked. "No, Rick. I signed it Katherine Beckett Castle."


	26. Chapter 26

The pain was tolerable, so long as he could keep his mind off of it. The shot was clean, as they called it, so no broken bones, no major blood vessels hit. They had dug it out and stitched him up. A lot of muscle soreness, but he'd be fine.

He kept telling himself that as the plane took off, as the pressure of gravity reawakened the beast in his shoulder.

Now that he'd had some antibiotics, the fever was gone and the chills didn't shake him by the scruff of his neck like a mad dog. He was doing better on this flight than the one over.

Kate, however, looked twisted in knots.

"Tactical retreat," he said finally, reaching over with his good arm and taking her hand. He could feel the tension coiled under her skin.

That vein was crossing her forehead, a pulse of anxiety. "What?"

"This is a tactical retreat, Kate, not a surrender. We don't have to give up. We'll lie low for awhile, let you do your probation with the FBI, then we'll come back."

Her eyes slid over his face, measuring, and she shook her head. "No, Castle."

"I'm not letting you go alone."

"I know," she said softly. "You'd come after me every time, wouldn't you." And it wasn't a question, not the way she said it. The lines in her forehead were smoothing out a little.

But he answered anyway. "Every time."

She nodded softly. "That's why I'll hand this over to Shaw. She's picking up the case since the NYPD won't be able to keep it open for much longer-"

"What do you mean?" He didn't like the look on her face: defeat and weariness.

"Lockwood's dead. He killed Montgomery. Case is closed, Castle. They won't allocate valuable manpower to chasing after ghosts. I'm not there to keep it going, and the boys don't have the clout to make the new guy - whoever they install as Captain at the 12th - do anything more than he has to."

Castle leaned his head back against the seat. "Hadn't thought of that."

"I talked with Esposito before I came out here. Warned him I wanted the FBI to take it over. He was pissed, but I think he understood."

A vague sense of futility overtook him; Castle turned his head carefully to look at her, slumped and weary in the seat. "Kate. We'll come back, open up that safety deposit box-"

"No," she said again, but her voice was soft towards him. "We won't. Shaw will take an agent and do it, or she'll farm it out to the local agency. Whatever is in there, we'll get it. It just won't be *me* or *you* doing the getting."

He hated to admit it, but he was relieved. She saw it on his face and sighed, turning away from him.

"Kate-"

"Where were you when it happened, Castle?" she asked suddenly.

His mind blanked.

"January 9th. 1999." She released his hand and rubbed at her eyes, then dropped her hands in her lap. "Saturday."

Oh. Her mother's murder. This is how she wanted to distract him? He'd rather go with kissing. "Well. Alexis was five, almost six, so that's. . .right after the divorce."

He saw, from the corner of his eye, Kate's head whip around. He felt her eyes on him but kept his head down.

"Kindergarten. She spent the first six weeks crying herself to sleep every night because she didn't want to go to school in the morning. Didn't want to leave."

He heard Kate's sharp intake; it hit him like that sometimes too, even still. He'd told Kate all about his custody battle with Meredith, how Alexis had suffered because of it. But what else could he have done? Let her go?

"She sleep in your room?" Kate asked.

"She tried. I - I'd read somewhere it wasn't a good idea, so I'd stay in her room instead, stay with her until she fell asleep, until her tears wore her out."

"God," Kate breathed.

"Yeah. But by January, she was okay. Right after Christmas break; I think they went back the 3rd or 4th. Only one week into the new semester. In fact, I think we probably went ice skating. Like-"

He paused, his brain stuck on the image of a young Kate in a braid, tights, a skirt, her ice skates laced up.

Kate nodded in understanding; he could see her swallow. "What - what were *you* doing, though? While Alexis went to kindergarten. Separation anxiety for you too?"

He tried smiling but it fell flat. "Yeah. First time she'd been away from me for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It was brutal. But I wrote two novels. The second was my first Derek Storm."

Kate's head swiveled to him with a strange look on her face; he wondered what she was remembering.

"The Old Haunt."

He grinned at that, nodded. "Yeah. The loneliness in the apartment was driving me nuts."

"But it's better than drinkin' alone," Kate murmured, humming a little with the song.

His lips twitched. "You have a good voice, you know. But yeah. They drank and I nursed one, wrote my novel."

"You wrote Derek Storm because he's a bad-ass who wouldn't have let Meredith do what she did to you," Kate said suddenly, but her hand reached for him and she laced her fingers with his. "Storm was everyone's hero; he was impenetrable."

_Unlike you_. He heard that too. But it was true; Storm came about because Castle himself felt too much.

He cleared his throat painfully, tried to battle back memories. "Yeah. You could say that-"

"Sorry, that wasn't fair of me," she broke in. "I do that when - I expose other people's wounds when mine are exposed."

"That sounds like a quote."

She nodded slowly. "It is. Was. My therapist. I shouldn't have-"

He squeezed her hand tightly to shut her up. "Kate. You're my wife."

Castle had to admit, he kinda liked the deer in headlights look on her; she froze so beautifully. Her eyes even took on a bit of that doe-like quality, luminous and wide and framed by long lashes.

"You're my wife, and you're allowed to know everything. Even, maybe especially, the painful parts."

She blinked, breaking the spell, and dropped her chin. "I never play this game anymore," she said.

"What game?"

"The 'where were you' game." Kate chewed on her lip. Castle shook off her hand so he could reach out and use his thumb to roll her lip back out. Her mouth quirked.

"Why'd you play it now?"

"To distract you," she shrugged, then recaptured his hand. "To distract myself."

"Why did you stop playing that game?" The game where she tried to find out if that day was as memorable for other people as it was for her. Honestly, he didn't remember that Saturday; he knew that he and Alexis probably spent it outside, cramming in a fun day ice skating after her first week back at school without tears, but he couldn't swear to it. The ice skating was a guess that had made him feel, for a moment, inexplicably closer to Kate.

"I stopped playing it after it came to mean something else entirely. The city's tragedy, not my own-"

"9-11," he nodded. "Yeah."

"How old was Alexis, then?"

"Seven," he said immediately. And this was a day he knew. But Kate? "How old were you?"

"Twenty-one."

He sighed. "Entirely too young for me, Kate Beckett."

She snorted. "Not twenty-one now, Castle."

"Yes but see, I was 29. And the difference between your 21 and my daughter's current 18 seems is mere months. And when I think that your current 31 and my ten-years-ago 29 is that same difference-"

"You're crazy," she laughed, squeezing his fingers. "Those numbers don't make sense compared ten years apart." She fell silent again, sighing at him good-naturedly, and he was glad to think he'd teased her out of some of her funk.

But he felt like he should know. All New Yorkers played this game at some point or another. Only it wasn't a game; it was a rite of passage, a shared initiation into adulthood. They were no longer innocents; they were marked by suffering.

Kate had been marked two years previous to that day, but what had it done to her?

"Where were you?" he asked finally. "In the interests of distraction."

She watched him for a long moment, letting him see the amusement die in her eyes, the fleeting mirth dissipate. "I was in my apartment. I'd gotten up early to write a paper."

Castle swallowed. He wished he hadn't asked. Somehow, this too was part of her personal tragedy.

"My - I didn't know. Did anyone? I watched the news; I didn't have class until later that day, I think eleven. Criminal Law paper didn't get done because the moment the first tower was hit-"

Castle suppressed his own sense of sickening dread, watched her struggle through something that was bigger than just that day.

"My mother's law offices were in the South Tower."

Oh God. Oh God, but-

"The first - the first few moments after the second plane hit, I had my phone in my hand and I was call-calling her. Calling her office, like she was there-"

"Oh God, Kate-"

She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, but no tears. Her breathing was slow and deep. She squeezed his hand, opened her eyes. "But she wasn't there. She'd been dead for two years."

Castle nodded, as if she needed affirmation, confirmation, and he leaned forward in his seat, entirely forgetting about his shoulder, tried to reach out to her. His strapped down arm tripped him up, but Kate was okay; she looked in control again. She looked like she was unearthing a memory long buried, and marveling herself to see it in the light. How ordinary it looked, how small now.

"The South Tower fell an hour later, Castle." Kate gripped his hand hard. "And I - I was grateful, so damn grateful my mother was already dead."

"Oh, God, Kate." Castle ignored the ache and reached across the distance to wrap his arm around her neck and shoulder, tug her against him, pressing his lips to her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked, should've-"

Her hand clutched his shirt collar, pushing him back. "Castle."

He shut up, watching her anxiously, his heart shredded, whimpering for her.

"Castle. You're my husband. And you're allowed to know everything." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he heard his own words and accepted them for what they were.

"Would she have been there, that day?" he asked, because he knew she'd asked it of herself already.

Kate nodded.

"Above or below." The site of the impact. Would she have been possibly trapped, or would she have had a chance, an hour, to get out?

"Above." Most likely trapped. Though some had gotten through. Her mother would've been one of the smart ones, right? Her mother would've left.

Castle didn't know what to say. And he couldn't let her get up, out of his arms yet. She didn't seem to want to pull away, instead she had her cheek against his chest. "That's - that's an awful thing to have to wonder."

She nodded. "Even though she was already dead, it was like she was dying, all over again."

Castle rubbed his hand across his face and dropped it back over her shoulder. "Damn."

She laughed, the sound both choked and desperate at the same time, but she twisted her neck to bury her face against his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah. Damn is right. All of it."

Something came to him, a piece of terrible memory wedged between all the other terrible memories, and things were beginning to lace together, little things she'd told him over the years. "Your father."

She nodded. It was all the confirmation he needed, but she seemed to want to explain.

Kate lifted her head, and her eyes were desolate. "My dad. He went to a bar that day, and he didn't come out of the bottle for years."

He stroked his thumb across her cheek and was frightened by how much he wanted to hurt her ten-years-younger father for what the man had done to her. Castle held on to her and kept his hand gentle even as he battled against this sudden helplessness.

He knew it was partly because of what had happened in Vegas with Russo, knew that on some instinctive level, he'd never be able to entirely see Kate as Detective Beckett any more. Not when she was wife, _his_; not when he'd seen her breaking apart, seen her broken, seen her fitting herself back together. There was too much between them now for him to be objective about any part of her - past, present, future.

"Kate."

"Hm?" She had her hand up against his ribs, stroking softly along his shirt. He wondered when she'd started that, and why it had taken him so long to notice.

"I wish I could always keep you safe, now and then and forever."

It wasn't what he meant to say, but it was the only thing that would come out.

Kate turned towards him, leaned up and brushed her mouth over his, gentle and grateful, her breath like a whisper across his lips. She slid her hand up his ribs to his neck, let her fingers stroke the vulnerable line of his adam's apple, while her tongue slowly stroked the roof of his mouth, intimate and unfamiliar at the same time.

He held back a moan; they were on a late flight home to the city, first class was deserted, the lights turned down, her body warm and rippling with strength against his.

"Kate, Kate-" He realized he was saying her name into the darkness between them, the shrinking darkness.

She was saying nothing with words, but everything with the intensity of her mouth, a language of need and forgiveness and love.

Love among the ruins.


	27. Chapter 27

He was back at the hospital, as if the last day had never happened. But it had; she had the ring on her finger to prove it, and a strange ache in her chest whenever she saw his too-pale face against the white of the sheet. Matching colors.

Jordan had found her at the hospital, tracked her down. Shaw had ripped into her in the hallway; Kate had no defense for it. The consequences of that conversation (dressing down) still sat unwieldy in her stomach, soured her. But she had no choice and no way to change things. She had chosen a course of action and pursued it, at a high cost, and had nothing to show for it.

Castle played with her fingers, watched her anxiously. "What did she say about it?"

"She can't do anything."

"Why?"

Kate swallowed and squeezed his hand, stilling his restlessness. "I should've been paying attention better on the phone. She basically told me then, but I wasn't listening."

"To what?"

"The break-in."

"Are you. . .do you need a lawyer, Kate?" He sounded horrified.

"Captain Montgomery's wife isn't pressing charges, but my fingerprint on the safe makes the evidence tainted. The story we told the police leaves Montgomery as a hero, but a blameless one, a guy caught in the crossfire. And when I couldn't explain to Jordan how Montgomery was mixed up in all of this, she couldn't see any way to officially investigate leads in Vegas. She thinks Lockwood was aiming for me and the Captain got in the way."

"But the key-"

"A key says nothing in and of itself. There's nothing here, Castle. I put Lockwood in prison; he escaped and naturally came after me. Lockwood killed Montgomery aiming for me. Lockwood's dead. Case closed."

"But you said the FBI could-"

"We don't have evidence. Not evidence we can use. I can't drag the Captain's name in the mud; I can't do that to his wife and girls-"

"No. No, I know." He was watching her and she felt sick to her stomach; she wanted to crawl into bed in her apartment and sleep for a couple days. Only she didn't have an apartment; she didn't even have a couple days. She had to be in Cleveland on Monday.

"She did promise to get someone out there to open up the box. She won't tell the agent what it's about; she won't look at it herself. She's doing me a favor basically. A favor I don't deserve."

"She said that?"

Kate glanced up; his voice had been sharp. He looked faded in the hospital gown despite the strength in his voice.

"Not exactly. But I could hear it. Now I'm - I'm second-guessing myself. Did I have to get Powell to open the safe? Couldn't I have just told Mary that Roy wanted me to look in the safe?"

"Kate, we didn't know what was in it. It could've been damning evidence; you didn't know. And you didn't want Mary there to see it."

"I don't know any more."

Castle's hand tightened against hers. "*I* know. We couldn't risk pulling anyone else into this, Kate. If we'd even hinted to his wife that Montgomery might have evidence that could help solve a conspiracy. . .too many questions would surface. And like you said - Lockwood shot him; Lockwood's dead. No questions there."

"Dead just like all my leads," she muttered, leaning forward with her head in her hands.

He wanted her hand back. "Shaw will work on the safety deposit box and-"

His phone vibrated on the bedside tray pulled up next to him. Her head whipped up; he snatched at his phone.

A text. Blocked number.

_Jay Bruce. Stay the hell away from Vegas._

Castle handed it to her with a shaky hand, watched her face as she read it. Something came over her then, determination or despair; he couldn't tell which.

"That's. . .my private number," he mentioned, taking the phone back from her. He forwarded the text to her number and dropped his phone on the bed. "It's not published. It's. . .how did he get my number?"

Kate rubbed a hand through her hair and held his eyes. "I don't know."

"I'm sure it *can* be found. But it takes power. Either some hacking abilities or some contacts. Power."

She nodded. "I know. Sending it to you, not me, is a warning of how far he can reach."

"This guy scares the shit out of me, Kate."

She swallowed and scrubbed at her face with her hand. "Me too. We're not going back there, Castle. But now we have. . .a different place to start."

"These guys all knew each other. Coonan and Lockwood - or Jay Bruce - and Russo. So they were in the Special Forces together. That means if we can dig into their pasts, we could find out who else is connected with them."

Kate nodded slowly. "That's what Russo wants us to do, obviously."

Castle felt his chest clench. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"For now," she admitted, sighing. "But I'm not talking about this any more. I'm done. Have you called Alexis?"

He frowned at her.

"Castle, you have to tell her. Every hour you put it off makes it that much harder to explain the silence."

She was right, and he hated to admit it, but he had to tell Alexis.

"I didn't tell Mother either," he confessed, raising his eyes to meet hers.

Kate groaned. "Castle."

"I know. I will. I'll call Mother first."

She shook her head at him and stood, as if she might leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "Sit back down, wife. You're not getting out of it that easily."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "They give you more of those happy pills, Castle? Cause if not-"

He chuckled nervously. "Uh, not enough for the conversations I've got to have."

"Get to it, then," she chided, lifting up only long enough to hand him his phone again.

He stared morosely at the dark screen, then shifted in the bed. "Will you sit with me?"

"Scared, Castle?"

"Yes."

Instead of rolling her eyes at him, Kate stood and leaned over to kiss his forehead, her lips warm and gentle. It felt nice; he could smell the scent at her neck, something other than cherries, vanilla or hazelnut; he wanted to taste it.

"Scoot over a bit more, fraidy-cat." She nudged his hip and he complied, sighing when she slid into the bed beside him. She fit next to him like she was made for him. Or him for her. Or both.

Kate took his phone from his hand, unlocked the screen, and called up Alexis's contact. She made the call before he could even protest. "Alexis first. Then your Mother."

He took the phone from her, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. She was right. Of course she was.

This wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

><p>Kate kept her head against his good shoulder and tried not to distract him. Her mind kept rushing around the impossibility of this thing, this case that just threw up obstacles in her way and offered up more questions, and no answers. Her mother's murder had been only the tip of the iceberg, and now Kate was deep in icy water, holding her breath and trying to swim for the bottom of it.<p>

It was unending; she felt suffocated by it.

Castle was trying to explain to his daughter what had happened. "I told you Captain Montgomery died-"

Kate could hear the far-off, escalating voice of Little Castle. Kate brushed her hand over her eyes and tried to keep her breathing steady. She felt sick; she wanted to get off this ride, but it wouldn't slow down. And now she'd brought Alexis's father onto the ride as well. Alexis who had only her father, and a mother that breezed in and out of her life. And now Kate had-

"No, Alexis, we went there to get married. Before anything else could happen. No. Kate's right here."

She wanted to know what his answer 'No' was to. What question from Alexis? _Did Kate leave you? Did Kate let you do this to yourself? Did Kate try to stop you? Is Kate good enough for you-_

She squeezed the bridge of her nose and tried to push those insecurities back down. She knew they were stupid, and selfish too, vain to the point of foolishness. Didn't mean she could stifle them all. Still.

"It's really okay, sweetheart. I went to Vegas, remember?" A note of false laughter from Castle. He was lying about how bad it was; it made her throat close up. "I'm just getting some antibiotics, keeping me overnight. I'm fine."

This was it. Her life was different now. Changed. She wanted this to last; it would last, so long as Kate stopped trying to get herself killed. She needed to listen to Jordan Shaw and let the FBI investigate where and when they could; she needed to be a team player.

"No, Kate's staying here. No, Alexis. You shouldn't. You stay at college-"

Kate grabbed his phone with a sudden surge of feeling. Alexis's voice on the other end of the call was pleading.

"Alexis, Alexis, it's me," she interrupted.

His daughter stopped talking; her breath hitched. She was gulping down tears, it sounded like. "Kate? Is Daddy really okay?"

"Hey, your Dad really is fine. He wants you to enjoy your first week of college and not worry about him."

"But I'm gonna worry no matter what. He got shot, Kate."

"I know." Kate turned her torso away from Castle as he wriggled his fingers at her, asking for his phone back. "I know you will. But it really won't do him any good, Alexis. He'll worry that you're missing out if you come here. And I promise I will keep you up to date. Okay?"

"Kate."

She waited for the young woman to compose herself.

"Kate, please don't let him - don't let him do something like this again. You love him, right? Don't-"

"I got this covered," she said intently, trying not to let on to Castle what was going on, ready to promise Alexis impossible things. "I love him, and he will be fine. I won't let him get shot again."

Castle's hand dropped into her lap; she looked back to see the exaggerated shock on his face, like he couldn't believe she'd said that. Like she hadn't said she loved him before. She narrowed her eyes at him and nudged his ribs with her elbow.

"Kate. You know. . .you know I love you too, right? I don't want you shot either."

She froze, wanted to share more but didn't know how. "Thank you. Alexis. I - I love you too. You know?"

"I know." Alexis sighed. "Can I talk to my dad?"

She handed the phone back over, only to see that Castle's eyes were wide, really shocked this time, all trace of mock disbelief wiped clean off his face.

He took the phone. "Alexis. Did you tell Kate-"

He listened. He lifted his grinning eyes to Kate's. She couldn't help her answering grin; she groaned at him and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

Okay, so she didn't just have a husband now. She apparently had a family.

She turned her face into his arm, tried to smother the stupid smile, but then didn't know why she needed to smother it at all.


	28. Chapter 28

"I'm just a little tiny bit tired," he said, trying wave off her concern.

Kate stroked the side of his face; he felt the skin of her fingers against his cheek and it trickled all the way down his body, a cascade of pleasure. He sighed, let his eyes close.

"You should sleep," she murmured.

"Just a little tired," he said again. He didn't want to sleep. He just wanted to rest here a second, feel her fingers move on his skin.

"Castle, let go of it."

He didn't want to. He didn't want her to go, this day to move on, another one take it's place. He liked where this day had brought him, even if parts of it were terrible. The other parts were amazing. "You married me," he whispered, took a moment to revel in that, then opened his eyes to look at her.

Kate was crying. He tried to raise his good hand, but it got tangled in all the tubes, blocked by her body next to his.

"Kate?"

"I hate that you sound so surprised," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. She'd been doing that a lot. He liked that she was using him as a refuge.

"Not surprised, Kate. Well, a little surprised. Mostly awed."

He managed to work his hand free, brushed at the back of her head awkwardly, tried to skim his fingers over her ear. She slid her knee up, so he reached down for that, wrapped his fingers around the back of her thigh.

"By what?" she muttered. "You believe me, don't you? When I say I love you."

Still, his throat closed up, his chest got tight whenever he heard it. "It's not that I don't believe you," he growled, clearing his throat. "I just. . .it's that I want it so much. Sometimes I don't believe me."

Her mouth was on his before he could even take a breath, hot and insistent, her hand sliding under the collar of the gown and down. He could hear his own heart rate ratchet up on the monitor, her fingers skimming his ribs.

She peeled away, her face flushed and aroused, gorgeous, _his,_ and he squeezed her thigh, trailed his fingers up.

"You should sleep."

He groaned. "After that? There's no way."

And yet the buzz of arousal was already being supplanted by the exhaustion in his bones, like her name, written in the sand of his arousal, was being washed away by the waves of weariness.

She hummed against his chest, her fingers soothing now. "Uh-huh, you're already falling asleep, aren't you?"

"No."

But he was, his traitor of a body was slipping under; he could feel her warm palm against his stomach, her fingers stroking. Any other day, that would be an invitation, and he knew she knew that, knew she was doing it on purpose to test him. To prove to him just how exhausted he was.

"Sleep, Castle. I know you want to."

"Want to do this right," he muttered back, jerking his eyes open, surprised they'd been closed. "Wedding day and-"

"You did everything just right," she soothed, her mouth on his ear and gentle, a soft kiss that spread warmth through his whole body. "Remember the hospital in Vegas? And how your hand-"

"Jeez, Kate. I'd. . ." He trailed off, concentrating on that warmth, those fingers stroking his stomach. Still, the drugs or the day had wiped him out and all he had left was the impression of wanting to do naughty things to her but no will to do them. Better things than what he'd done to her in his other hospital bed. "Tomorrow, Kate."

"It's a date," she whispered and her lips trailed down to his mouth, left him breathless.

"Love you too," he sighed, letting himself be dragged under.

* * *

><p>Moments or minutes or hours later, he was jostled awake by her movement away from him. He winced, dragged from sleep, tried to clutch her to him.<p>

"I got it, Castle," she whispered, and he slit his eyes in the darkness of the room to see the glow of her phone. "It's Lanie. Go back to sleep."

Lanie. He drifted for a moment, disappointed her warmth was gone, but unable to keep conscious long enough to mourn it.

* * *

><p>She wasn't there when he woke, at six, to the nurse taking his vitals. The nurse promised to get his paperwork; he had an appointment with the social worker at seven to go over his discharge plan.<p>

He pulled his phone from the bedside table and called Kate, his body aching more today than yesterday, but with less sharpness to it, more of a battered weariness.

It went straight to voicemail.

He texted her.

_Prison break at 7. _

She didn't text back immediately, so he texted his daughter a good morning, just to reassure her that he'd made it through the night. Of course he had. And then he tried calling Kate again. Voicemail.

The nurse came back and walked him through the paperwork, taking his mind off Kate for a few minutes. When everything was in order, the nurse informed him breakfast was on its way and there'd be a wheelchair waiting for him when the social worker and his doctor had conferred.

It could be eight before he left. He tried calling Kate again. No answer.

Surely she hadn't gone back to Vegas.

The social worker was an older woman with dark hair and a floor nurse's white lab coat. She smiled and talked carefully about his home environment, the antibiotics he'd have to take, and the two week appointment he'd need to schedule with his own primary care physician.

His phone vibrated during the conversation, but when he discreetly checked, it was Alexis texting him back. The social worker was still talking.

He wished Kate was there to listen for him; he had trouble keeping it straight. It was probably the last of the IV pain medicine making him easily distracted. (Or Kate's non-response.) He was being given pain pills instead, to take at home.

The social worker left to talk with his doctor about his care plan; when she was gone, the room smelled faintly of Coco Chanel perfume. It reminded him of his mother, so he texted her to let her know he was close to leaving. He'd called her last night after Alexis, to some equally tearful exclamations about his lack of safety.

And promises to be smarter next time. Kate had talked with her as well.

It was 7:28. He called Kate again and got no answer, but this time the phone rang and rang. That meant her phone was at least on.

He debated calling Alexis and having her come with the car service to pick him up. The driver was technically not supposed to step over the threshold of the designated drop-off site, but Castle knew he could probably get Ernie or Edward to help him up to his loft. If he was desperate.

He started composing his text to Alexis, trying to avoid scary words like _missing _and _help._

At 7:45 he got a text from Kate.

_trouble here. love u._

He called her back immediately. It went straight to voicemail.

* * *

><p>When Kate tumbled through his door and into his room, the breath left him.<p>

She had bloodstains on the hem of her shirt, a wide smear of it up her left ribs. Her eyes were rimmed with red; she was shaking. "It's over. We're done."

His heart contracted. For half a second, the look on her face, the desolation in her eyes, they cut him to the bone. The wedding ring wasn't on her finger. Neither was her mother's.

"Kate?"

She moved into the room and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. He closed his eyes against the sharp edge of pain that awoke at her fierce embrace; he used his good arm to hold her tightly. Grateful for the pain. Tried not to think about the missing rings.

She was taking ragged breaths, practically whimpering into his skin. He was five minutes away from being discharged; the nurse had left to get the wheelchair. She was struggling to keep it together.

"Are you-" She stopped and cleared her throat. "Can you get out of here now? We need to get out of here."

"Kate. Tell me what's happened."

"We need to get out of here-"

"They're getting the wheelchair. Now, tell me-" He grabbed her by the nape of her neck to hold her in place, trying to see her eyes. "Tell me."

She nodded, avoided his gaze. "Lanie called me."

His heart pounded.

"I gave Esposito that name we got from Russo. It was - it was a trap, Castle."

"What?" Esposito. "Wait. No."

"We're not doing this any more. No more of this. It's over. I can't -" She cried out and her eyes slammed shut; he cradled her into his body, tried to ease the broken pieces back together.

"Kate. What happened to Esposito?" She had blood on her shirt.

"No. It's not-" She shook her head against his bad shoulder; he hissed and she jerked back. "God, sorry-"

"Esposito," he grit out, wrapping his fingers around her arm. He felt like he had to hold her in place to get answers.

"He had a friend in Military Intelligence look up Bruce. A few hours later, Esposito got a call from this guy's phone." Kate shut her eyes and swallowed hard. "He was screaming. Just. . .screaming. Unending. Esposito. . .flipped out."

"And then Lanie called you," he whispered, loosening his grip on her arm.

"When I got there, they'd already delivered his body."

"What?" Horror leaked out of her eyes, into his. "What do you mean?"

"Esposito's Army buddy. He was dropped off at Esposito's apartment. Dead. He was. . .a mess. Lanie tried-" Kate jerked to a stop, shook her head, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

Castle slid his hand down her arm, snatched at the hem of her shirt. Blood. This unknown guy's blood, who had only been running down a name.

"It's done, Castle. I called Jordan; she called a friend in Homeland Security. FBI turned the case over to them, officially. Unofficially, it's over. No more of this. I can't keep getting people killed-"

"This was not your fault, Kate."

"Could have been Ryan. I told Esposito to have Ryan do a prelim, but he went instead to his friend first. That could have been Ryan, but it was this guy who-"

She choked off; Castle wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her in against him, on his good side. "This is not your fault. They did this. Not you-"

At that moment, the nurse's aide came into his room with the wheelchair, smiling at them. "Are we ready to go?"

Kate stiffened, pulled back, swiping at her face. Castle nodded over Kate's shoulder. "Yeah."

Kate cleared her throat, crossed her arms over her stomach. "We need to get you out of here."

"I called the car service-"

"Do you know the guy driving?"

"Yes. I do, Kate."

She shivered but nodded, moving away to let the aide get to Castle, help ease him down into the wheelchair. His body ached every time he moved, but he kept the pain off his face and bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from it.

Kate reached down and he took her hand, lacing their fingers together. The aide started pushing the chair out the door, Kate walking at his side.

"Got your phone?" she said. "Everything else?"

"Phone's in my pocket." He had the clothes he'd come in with even though he'd wanted to get clean ones from home. Have Kate get him clothes. Later. He could ride home in yesterday's clothes; that wasn't a big deal.

Shit. Esposito. And Lanie. And, Kate-

It proved to be too awkward to hold hands, so he let her go. She followed behind them out the side entrance, down the long ramp to the overhang where cars could pull up. The town car was already there.

Ernie was the one at the door, and Kate relaxed recognizing him.

"Let's go home," she said, turning back to Castle, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

He titled his head, reached up to capture her chin with his fingers, kissed her mouth with all the built-up worry and dread and relief that he hadn't been able to show. She took it, drank it in, and spread her hand across his cheek, warming his skin.

When he thought he could handle it, he let her go.

"Home," he said.

He'd ask about the rings later.


	29. Chapter 29

Kate watched him lay back against the couch cushions; his eyes were firmly shut and his body was a knife's-edge of tension. She'd given him a pain pill once they'd gotten upstairs, then she'd texted Alexis and waited for the pill to start working.

The doctor had warned her that they were mild and might only take the sharp edge off. He needed anything he could get though.

"Home," she said, brushing a hand down his arm. He lifted it, snagged her fingers with his.

She waited until he could speak, the lines lessening, growing shallow, his mouth relaxing.

"Home," he agreed. His hand twitched in hers, swinging their arms. "Where?"

She watched him lick his lips, tried to figure out what his question was in regards to-

"Oh. I - I have them." She released his hand, dug into her pocket for the rings. "There was - blood. And-"

She fumbled with them, and he reached for her hand, tugging her down. Kate clenched the rings tightly and tried not to fall into him. He pried open her fingers, grabbed her left hand.

Her chest throbbed as he slid the ring on her finger, her wedding ring. When he moved to put her mother's ring on her other hand, she curled her fingers into a fist.

"Wait."

He glanced up at her, confused, and Kate chewed on the inside of her lip, staring at her right hand, the place where he had put her mother's ring during the ceremony. Where she didn't want it any more, didn't want to see it. Didn't want to feel it, an equal weight, hand for hand. Like they were equally important.

It came first. But his. . .his was last. And to last.

She didn't know how to say that, how to explain it right. Kate took the ring back from him and put it in her pocket.

He didn't ask, and she was grateful.

"I've. . .got one," he said finally, his breathing a little too labored for her liking.

"Got what?"

"A ring."

She lifted her eyes to his, shocked. "But I - you mean -"

"An engagement ring, Kate. I sent you the wedding ring, but I did get you an engagement ring."

"You did?"

He grinned at her, stroked his finger along her ring finger, circling the band. "You want it, don't you?"

"Castle."

He grinned wider, but his breathing was better; the pain must be receding. "It's pretty. I think it's pretty. Not as pretty as you."

"Pain pill's working, isn't it?" she grinned at him.

"Mmm, could be." His eyes slipped closed.

"So. My ring?"

His eyes fluttered open again, pegged her with a drowsy kind of smile. "Yeah."

"Castle."

"You want it, don't you? Wanna see it."

She huffed a laugh and leaned in to kiss him, that sleepy, adorable grin. "I do. You gonna tell me where it is?"

"Mm, sure. Yeah. I wanna get it for you. Give it to you."

"Okay. So." She brushed her fingers down his cheek, kissed the space between his eyes. "Where is it?"

"I show you," he said, his voice childish but thick, rough. He jerked upright and she held her hands out, trying to placate him without actually pushing on his shoulders to get him to rest.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy there, tiger." She nudged his side, tried to get him to lay back against the couch.

He grinned but pushed her away. "I got it."

He kind of. . .rolled to his feet. Somehow. She watched him struggle, then put her shoulder into his armpit and helped him stand. He staggered a bit, but it was probably because of the medicine.

"Just. . .in here. Wait. You stay. I get it."

"Rick," she protested, her fingers around the inside of his elbow.

"Stay," he insisted. "I get it, Kate."

"You sound like a child. Let me help you."

"Stay." He pushed on her a little, causing them both to sway. "I can do this."

Kate let him go, even though he didn't look very steady on his feet. She followed for a few steps, just to be sure, and then he turned and pointed at her, a warning, so she stopped.

She bounced on her toes in the hallway, then finally went back to the couch, fiddling with the wedding ring. Her mother's ring was in her pocket. She took it out again and studied it.

Blood was caked into the grooves of the setting; she ran her nail along the diamond and blood flaked off. Her phone, smeared with Castle's blood; her mother's ring, caked in the blood of a stranger.

For what? No answers. More questions. Pain for those she loved.

She squeezed a fist around the ring, chewed on her lip. The prongs of the setting cut into her palm. She couldn't find a way to be free of it; she needed to be free of it. It was hurting her.

"See?" Castle's excited voice came bouncing down the hallway; he appeared like a little boy in the living room, shirt untucked and eyes too bright, hair mussed. He shuffled forward with a blue box in his outstretched hand and her breath caught.

"Castle." Like a kid offering wildflowers to his first crush, all hopeful and expectant.

"I bought it. . .ages ago." Blue box. Definitely not some wildflowers he'd picked from the corner lot.

"Ages?" She stood and caught him gently by the uninjured shoulder. He followed her to the couch, grabbed her hand. He felt her fist and splayed her fingers, plucked the ring from her palm.

"Don't need that any more, Kate."

She watched him toss it over his shoulder, her heart in her throat, and it landed somewhere out of her sight. She caught his eyes, tried not to panic at the thought of her mother's ring no longer close, no longer where she could reach it. . .

He was leaning in to kiss her mouth, a little sloppy, but warm and gentle. "I got you a ring," he whispered. His kiss went deeper, focused, tongue and teeth, suckling mouth, and she felt his hand wrapped around hers, his thumb stroking her palm, an electric current between his touch and his mouth, jolting through the core of her body.

Castle got her a ring.

She felt him trail away from her, and she opened her eyes, took the box he offered to her. Her heart pounded. His hand stroked hers. She flipped the lid.

Oh. Oh wow.

"Castle-"

"I love you," he insisted, earnest, and removed the box from her nerveless hand, tugging the ring out of its satin bed.

She breathed in and watched him gracefully maneuver her finger into position, the thin ring sliding over her knuckle. Slim. Square-cut sapphires which were set inside the band so that it laid flat on her hand.

"I didn't want it catching in anything," he said, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers. "You work around criminals. Didn't seem a good idea."

She laughed softly against his cheek, brought her hand up to his neck, her fingers in his hair. She closed her eyes but the image of those deep blue stones, all in an elegant line across her ring finger, swam into her vision.

"And titanium, like the wedding rings, won't get broken. But if it's not enough-"

"Shut up, Castle." She pressed her mouth to his, drank him in, all rambling, drugged, delicious Castle. His mouth was hot and rich; her tongue tasted the deepest hints of coffee and mint and him, him, this man who, even in pain, wanted to please her.

He groaned and fell towards her, trapping her beneath him on the couch. She laughed into his mouth, shifted her hips so that he lay cradled against her. His head came down on her chest and he sighed. One of his hands fiddled with her shirt, brushed his fingers against the sensitive skin at her side.

"You like it."

"I do. I love it." She stroked her hands through his hair, brushed her fingers down his jaw. "I love you."

He sighed again. "I know. I know that now."

Pain pills made him painfully honest. She kissed what she could reach, a swathe of skin above his eyebrow. "Always. Always, partner."

"Yes." His mouth trailed across her exposed skin as he turned his head, then he sighed again, his nose flat against her sternum. "This hurts."

"Oh. Castle." She tensed, afraid to help him up, biting her lip. Anything she moved would require pushing on him and he was now coiled tight, his breath heating her chest in panting exhalations. "Castle. How can I-?"

"Stay right there."

"But your shoulder." She skimmed her hand down his spine, felt him tilt slowly towards the back of the couch, off his bad side. "Okay. Here." Kate turned with him until the couch propped him up, his chest still against hers.

"Ah."

"You okay?"

"Uhhh. . ." He opened his eyes. "Not. Really."

"Oh, Rick." Kate bit her lip, felt something digging into her hip, something sharp, and wriggled back slowly. "Let me get you into bed. Okay? It will be better there. You can't stay on the couch."

"Just. A second."

She slid away from him, carefully, and heard something fall to the floor. When she glanced down, it was her mother's ring, glittering in the overhead light.

Kate bent down and picked it up, studied the ring, the light trapped in the faceted surface of the stone.

"Kate."

"Yeah. I'm here."

She looked over at him; his eyes were shut, his face bleached of color; he was chewing on his bottom lip - her bad habit. Kate went to her knees beside the couch, stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, tugged his lip from his teeth.

"Kate. R-r-ready." He wasn't, but he needed to move; she could see that.

"All right. Let's get you into bed."

Kate stood, the ring hooked on her thumb, and studied her husband, breathing shallowly through the resurgence of pain. He blinked a few times, squeezed his eyes closed again.

This was. . .*not* her fault. But.

But.

She could choose a better life for them. She could make a new way. She could avoid hired assassins, and she could turn a blind eye to fatal conspiracies. She could ignore psychotic men from Special Forces; she could stop running like a dog after every hare. She could walk away.

Castle shifted and sat up on a groan, his head bowed. His groan ended on a whimper.

Kate dropped the ring on the coffee table and reached for his good side, her throat dry, her eyes not.

It was over. No more of this.

Castle stood shakily, leaning into her, and pressed his mouth to the top of her head, his cheekbone hard against her skull. "Kate." His voice was shaky.

"Yes," she said, walking him slowly forward, back to the bedroom. "It'll be fine now. I've got you."

Kate wrapped her arm around his waist and led her husband to bed.

She walked away.


End file.
